


One Hour Every Sunday

by ruthvsreality



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Brief Discussion of Gun Violence, Emotional Transference, Gun Violence, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soul Bond, Soul Bonds Au, Soulmates, kind of anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2020-09-28 05:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/pseuds/ruthvsreality
Summary: Maybe he had imagined a big bonding ceremony, directly after his wedding, with Jon as his best man handing him a handkerchief after the bite. Maybe he imagined doing it in bed with a lover of many years. No matter what, he didn’t imagine this.But Tommy would’ve been dead on the ground if Dan hadn’t done it, so Dan isn’t about to start apologizing.





	1. On Pizza, and Hospital Rooms

The night that Tommy Vietor gets shot, he has an argument about onions.

“Jon, I’m not - I’m not putting onions on a cheese pizza.”

“C’mon,” Jon’s voice is tinny through the phone, “you’ll like it. It tastes good. Hot onions on a hot pizza -”

“I like my pizza just the way it is.”

“And you’ll like it better with onions!” Jon is very keen on having onions on his pizza, it seems. “And this is a good introduction to, you know, grown-up pizza.”

“Cheese pizza is plenty grown-up!” Tommy laughs as he steps into the pizza place. There are about three other people waiting to order; it’s not a busy night. Tommy awkwardly waves hi to the guy at the register and steps in line.

“Cheese pizza is the baseline of pizzas,” Jon argues. "Where’s Dan? I want his opinion on this.”

“Dan’s in the car, he had an email to answer.” Tommy shifts his weight, leaning against one of the tables. “But he would agree with me.”

“He would not.”

Tommy looks over at the pizzas, and thinks about putting onions on his beloved cheese. “I’ll see if they’ll put it on half the pie.”

“Thank you,” Jon says. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Got it.” Tommy frowns. Something’s happening at the register. “Hey, I…” But Jon’s hung up the phone.

Tommy turns, and feels a creeping sort of numbness set in when he sees that the customer at the register is holding a gun. Not a fake gun, either. A real, honest-to-god gun like the kind Tommy’s only ever seen once before in person, when his Uncle Lucas took him to the gun range on his thirteenth birthday (his least favorite birthday present to date).

“I’m not looking for any trouble, man,” the guy hollers. He’s wearing a dark hood and he looks just as nervous as the cashier. “Just give me everything in the register and don’t even think about calling the cops.”

The guy nods and nervously goes to open the register, shuffling around to get the cash.

It’s at that moment that Tommy fucks up. He steps back, just a little, too focused on the fucking gun in the room, and stumbles against the rack of chips. It shifts and clatters, startling him, and he jumps slightly, moving it more. The whole room’s attention turns towards him.

It all happens so quickly. The guy moves; for a moment Tommy has super senses. He can see every muscle in the gunman’s hand shift. He can see the mechanics of the gun, the bullet move in its chamber. He can feel the air on his skin, can tell the exact pitch at which the fluorescent lights are humming. The woman three feet away from him blinks. The cashier starts to say something; Tommy can’t hear it over the roaring in his ears.

Then there’s an awful pain in his side and the whole world goes black.

\---

Someone has a radio in the room across the hall. It’s very loud, and Dan is considering smashing it to pieces.

_Runnin’ down the avenue… see how the sun shines brightly..._

What’s the band that sings this song, again? Dan can’t remember. Fuck, his head hurts. His side hurts. His everything hurts.

Tommy shifts a little in the hospital bed. The doctor said he might wake up at any time, now.

Everything is so much… brighter, now. Dan knew that the bite would give Tommy an extra burst of strength, but he didn’t know it would fuck with his hormones, too. It’s like his body is a stereo and it’s amped up to eleven. Colors seem oversaturated; noises are louder. The pain in his side, a dull ache at first, grows more intense as time goes on. Dan knows it’ll fade; that doesn’t stop him from wishing it would go away entirely.

_Mister Blue Sky, please tell us why, you had to hide away for so long (so long)..._

What’s that fucking band? It’s not the Beatles…

“Electric Light Orchestra.” Tommy mumbles from the hospital bed. His voice is hoarse. Dan immediately gets to his feet to get him a glass of water.

“Hey, buddy.” Dan looks over Tommy, meeting his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“What… what happened?”

“Well… you got shot.” Dan moves his chair up to sit next to Tommy. “We were at Paisano's, and you went in, and some guy came in and tried to hold the place up…”  
  
“And he shot me,” Tommy croaks. “Holy shit, I got shot.” He moves, presses up on his elbows. He’s so pale; he’s practically the color of the bedsheets.

“Don’t try to move, you were in surgery for a long time.” Dan presses back gently on his shoulder, and Tommy collapses back onto the pillows. “Jon and Lovett will be coming back soon, by the way. I’ll text them and tell them you woke up.” He pulls out his phone.

“Where are they?”

“Out getting food.” Dan shrugs. “We’ve been here… a while.” He looks at his watch.

A doctor comes in; a pretty woman with glasses. Dan stands and gives her a tight smile.

“Tommy! Good to see you’ve woken up. I’m Dr. Morgan. You were in a pretty bad state, there, for a while.”

Tommy grimaces a little. “I got shot.” It appears that that little fact seems to only now be sinking in, for him. Dan can’t really tell what he’s feeling - the bond hasn’t fully settled yet - but he can tell he’s confused, and scared, and in a lot of pain.

“Don’t worry, we’ve managed to fix you up - no organs or major arteries were damaged.”

“Oh.” 

She looks at Dan and nods at him, “so it’s lucky your friend got there in time.”

Tommy nods slightly and sighs. He looks down at himself, assessing his body. He reaches up and touches the top of his head, feeling the bruise there at the crown. “Ow.”

“You hit your head on the counter when you fell,” Dan explains.

Tommy moves his hand, shifting it a little. He winces, and Dan thinks of when he woke up earlier, when Jon and Lovett were all crowded around him. This was hours ago; he said _Iowa_ and then fell back asleep.

Dan had thought, briefly, that Tommy was going to die, last night. Now he’s here, alive, and his fingers are brushing over the small wad of gauze on his neck.

Dan had bitten rather hard; adrenaline had been rushing through his veins, and he didn’t know how hard he’d need to bite under normal circumstances.

“Did he try to shoot me in the face, too?”

“Um, no.” The doctor gives him a sheepish little smile as she’s going over his chart. “See, your friend…” She turns to Dan.

Dan swallows and looks at Tommy. Tommy blinks at him, uncomprehending.

Dan’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Eager to escape Tommy’s curious gaze, he takes it out to see a text from Lovett.

“It’s Jon and Lovett,” Dan says, “I’ll go, um, help sign them in.” It’s a white lie, because this hospital has a liberal enough visiting policy that none of them had to be signed in to see Tommy, but Dan really needs to leave the room while the doctor explains what happened.

He can’t be there to see Tommy’s face.

Jon and Lovett are walking down the hall, carrying Chipotle bags. Jon gives Dan a once-over and raises his eyebrows.

“I take it he knows?”

“He’s… in the process of knowing.”

Lovett tilts his head. “Are you going to stand outside Tommy’s room forever?”

“No! I just…” Dan squirms uncomfortably. “Was hoping to get a few more minutes before I got yelled at.”

“Dude, you practically saved his life, I’m sure he’s not going to yell at you.” Jon is optimistic, as usual.

Dan and Lovett give him matching looks of skepticism. Dan turns on his heel and walks back to Tommy’s room, Favs and Lovett close behind.

The doctor’s gone when Dan steps in the room. Tommy is sitting up in bed a bit more, looking at Dan with… Dan can’t quite tell. His head hurts with the swirl of emotions still settling in the back of his mind; they provide no insight into what Tommy’s thinking, not yet.

Tommy certainly doesn’t look happy.

“You fucking bonded with me?”

Dan swallows. “Okay, it’s not as bad as it seems.” He looks around for support, but Jon and Lovett both avoid his gaze as they slip past him.

“Really? Cause I don’t know what else it could seem like. There’s a fucking bite on my neck and apparently you’re the one who put it there!” Tommy takes a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re - you’re in my - my head -”

Right there in the hospital room is the first time that Dan can actually feel Tommy through the bond. Pure ice-white fear strikes through Dan’s mind, a thought that isn’t his own. He can’t sense words, but he has the horrifying impression that he could, if he really focused enough.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Dan is worried that he’s made a horrible mistake.

Lovett’s the one who snaps them both out of it. “Tommy, don’t yell at him, he saved your fucking life.”

“How the fuck did he do that?” Tommy asks. His voice is high and tight.

The question annoys Dan more than a little bit; isn’t it obvious? “You were bleeding out on the floor; the ambulance was nearly ten minutes away, I saw the opportunity to help you and I took it.”

“How the fuck -”

“Bond bites cause a large release of beneficial hormones; a bonding is often followed by periods of strength, increased cognitive ability, or euphoria,” Jon says. “In emergencies, some bonds have been formed when one party has given needed strength to another.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He shrugs. “I read the wikipedia article.”

Tommy glares at him, and then at Dan. “You told them before you told me?”

“Well, it’s pretty hard to avoid, Tommy, there’s a big fucking gash on your neck!”

Tommy shakes his head, and then winces from the pain. “Let me get this straight,” he says. “You - you heard fucking gunshots and you ran _toward_ the -”

“You were in there, okay? Would you rather I ran after the guy? The police caught him by the way, in case you were wondering.” Dan is really getting tired of Tommy’s attitude. He didn't expect gratitude, exactly, but this fury is hard to deal with.

“So you just… saw me,” Tommy sounds incredulous, “and you decided to bond with me?”

“Yes!” Dan crosses his arms. “Yes, that’s exactly what I decided to do. You were bleeding onto the tile, and you looked - like you were in a lot of pain, and I was scared, and I knew that - that I could help.” It sounds flimsy, lame when he says it out loud. He thought he was doing the right thing; it seemed simple.

Tommy looks away and reaches over for his cup of water; he can’t quite get it. Dan steps forward to help him out but Tommy glares at him. Jon moves out of his chair and gets the glass for Tommy.

Dan starts to get flashes, colors, ideas that are unfamiliar to him. He suddenly realizes why exactly Tommy is so upset.

Dan has never had any romantic notions about bonding; his parents are bonded, sure, but he knows several couples who aren’t, and after what happened with Sarah, he sees bonding as more of a biological connection than something that couples always do because they’re in love. Evidently, Tommy had other ideas about bonding.

Maybe he had imagined a big bonding ceremony, directly after his wedding, with Jon as his best man handing him a handkerchief after the bite. Maybe he imagined doing it in bed with a lover of many years. No matter what, he didn’t imagine this.

But Tommy would’ve been dead on the ground if Dan hadn’t done it, so Dan isn’t about to start apologizing.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Tommy.” Dan puts his hands in his pockets.

Tommy looks like he wants to cross his arms but can’t because he’s basically stuck in one place. “Well, I want - I want to get rid of it!”

“You - you want to sever the bond?”

“Yes!”

Immediately the energy in the room shifts. Lovett, who had been watching the entire conversation like a tennis match, stiffens up immediately. Jon stands up from his seat.

“Okay, let’s not get hasty, here.” Lovett says.

“Yeah, Tom, let’s at least let your Mom get here before we start talking about putting you under the fucking knife again.” Jon looks visibly shaken by the idea, which is a good thing, because it means Dan’s not the only one freaking out.

He doesn’t know what he expected. That Tommy would be thrilled? Hardly. But - severing it? So soon after it’s formed?

Tommy groans and leans his head back on the pillows, exposing his neck and the bandage on the side of it. “You called my Mom?”

“Yeah, Tommy, you got shot,” Lovett says flatly. “She's on a flight over as we speak.”  
  
Tommy groans again. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

Lovett rolls his eyes and goes back over to his Chipotle bowl. He scoops some of the rice out with a chip and eats it. “Look,” he says after chewing and swallowing, “you both are overreacting. Being bonded isn’t as… life-changing as you’re making it out to be.”

Dan stares at him. “Lovett, it’s called a soul bond for a reason.”

“Okay, but I’m telling you it’s not earth-shattering. And am I not an expert in this situation?”

That shuts everyone up. Lovett turns to look at Tommy; Dan can see the tiny scar on the back of his neck. Lovett is indeed the only person in the room who has any experience with bonding.

“Bonds are -” Lovett sits down in the chair next to Tommy, “they’re not like it is in the movies. You’re not constantly hearing the other person’s thoughts. It’s more like… a house, that both of you occupy.”

Dan wonders if Lovett came up with this metaphor himself or if it was told to him when he bonded with Ronan.

Tommy frowns. “That doesn’t sound any better.”

“It’s better because it means it’s more of a muscle, that you can control. You can leave the house if you need to.”

Jon nods thoughtfully, like he’s listening to a candidate speak during an interview. “You’re saying you can block the bond if necessary.”

Lovett nods in affirmation. “Exactly. You can block Dan out, and Dan can block you out, the same way you can both close your eyes. You just have to focus on it.”

Dan closes his eyes, and tries to focus on the feelings in his head that definitely aren’t his. He imagines putting up a big brick wall; solid, impenetrable.

It takes a moment, but there’s a bit of silence. Still, it feels uncertain, tenuous.

“It’ll take practice, I think.” Lovett scratches the back of his neck. “Especially, uh, given the circumstances.”

Tommy scoffs at that. Dan meets his eyes and Tommy shrugs at him. “Better than nothing,” he says. “Sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay.” Dan swallows. He feels really weird right now. “I think, um, I’m going to get some air.”  
  
“Maybe that’s a good idea,” Tommy replies. He doesn’t look as mad, now; more defeated. Somehow that’s worse. Big strong Tommy, small and pale in his hospital bed.

Jon starts to talk to Tommy again and Dan takes the opportunity to step out into the hallway, and then outside. Once there, he pulls out his phone and brings up google.

Time to figure out what exactly he’s gotten himself and Tommy into.


	2. On Podcasts, and Sundays

Everybody gives Tommy a round of applause when he comes into work, three weeks later. Jon hugs him, even though he’s seen him every day since Tommy got shot, and Lovett buys him a miniature novelty teddy bear that says  _ Get Well Soon!  _ on it in big frilly handwriting. Dan hugs him, too, but it feels awkward and stiff. He turns away, afterwards, and avoids looking at the newly healed scar on Tommy’s neck.    
  
Things are… different, now that Dan and Tommy are bonded. The most obvious being that everything is awkward whenever the two of them are together. This never used to happen before; in fact, Dan can’t think of a time in his and Tommy’s friendship when there was a genuinely awkward moment between them. Everything flowed very naturally, from when they first met in the transition period, to the frantic whirlwind of the West Wing, to when Dan started contributing to the podcast. 

Their friendship sort of petered out a bit, when Dan moved to San Francisco. But it wasn’t like they didn’t keep in touch; they were both in the slack chat, and they occasionally crossed paths when they did the podcast together. They just… weren’t as close as before. 

Dan regrets that, now; letting their friendship fade like colors on a shirt, bleached by the sun. He should’ve done more when he moved to L.A., should’ve held onto Tommy’s camaraderie and friendly smile. Instead he took it for granted.    
  
And now it’s… not really  _ gone,  _ because Tommy clings to everyone like they’re his security blanket, now, but it’s not as present as it used to be. Dan isn’t a pariah. He’s just… not what he used to be. Once he was a member of the starting five; now he’s not quite a bench-warmer, but certainly not a star.    
  
That’s an understatement, because there’s one part of Dan’s relationship with Tommy that honestly has changed the way they interact forever, and it’s the part that Dan feels the worst about.    
  
The Bond. Capital T, capital B. The thing every little girl dreams about along with their wedding and their prince charming, and Dan stole it from right under Tommy’s nose. Cheated him out of it, like it was a hacked election or a rigged college football game.    
  
But did he? It’s not as if Dan didn’t have a good reason…

These two conflicting ideas have been bouncing around in Dan’s brain almost nonstop since Tommy returned to the office. They both have been blocking each other out pretty well, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not constantly aware of each other. 

Lovett compared it to a house, one in which they’re both present. Dan’s not used to having a house in his head. He wishes it were bigger, so he could give more space to Tommy. He already feels the steady pressure of Tommy’s presence in his mind. Sometimes it burns warm whenever Tommy gets passionate about something; other times it feels like ice in his veins, signaling that Tommy’s upset or annoyed, though Dan doesn’t know what about. He can’t imagine how his side of the bond feels; he already knows that he’s not nearly as good at holding it up as Tommy is at holding up his. 

Sitting at his desk in the Crooked office, he tries to imagine a big New England mansion, an old Victorian with dozens of rooms, windows open, curtains flowing. He tries to think of one of the furthest rooms in the house, far away towards the ocean, where Tommy won’t find him.    
  
It relieves the pressure a little bit, but not much. Tommy is still Tommy and Dan is still Dan, and they’re still bonded to each other, because Dan was too fucking spooked by the sight of Tommy with blood on his t-shirt.    
  
Lovett rolls over to Dan in his wheelie chair. “Dan. Daniel. Howard Daniel. Danny boy. ”    
  
“Yeah?”

“Why the long face? We’re nearly three quarters through the Trump presidency, there's more of it behind us than in front of us.” Lovett frowns, as if unsure of his own joke. 

“I’m fine, just… thinking about stuff.”    
  
Lovett nods. “You been okay, lately?”    
  
Dan waves his hand. “I’m not the one you should be asking. I’m not the one with the little bear on his desk.”    
  
“I know, that’s why I’m asking you.” Sometimes Lovett can be remarkably observant. 

“I’m… okay.” Dan shrugs. “The sound of sirens is out of my head, at least.”    
  
“Do you want me to practice some material on you? I’ve got a really great Bernie joke for Friday’s show.”   
  
Dan chuckles. “I think I’m the only one you actually ask that question to.” He’s pretty sure Jon and Tommy don’t get an option.    
  
“You’re special, Dan, you get a choice. Also you’ve yelled at me before and I’d rather not relive that experience.”    
  
That makes Dan smile. “I’m sorry I was such an ass to you, in the White House.”    
  
“Eh, you kept me in line.” Lovett rolls his eyes and grins.    
  
Jon comes over and raps his knuckles on Dan’s desk. “Hey, time to record.” 

Lovett raises his eyebrows at Dan and they both get up to go to the studio. 

The pod goes well. Dan sits next to Tommy, and for once Tommy isn’t glaring at him or giving him that strange distant look of which Dan has been the exclusive recipient, lately. Dan’s also to Tommy’s right, so he doesn’t have to see that stupid fucking bite mark, way too big and still unfamiliar on the smooth surface of Tommy’s skin.    
  
They talk about healthcare, and the 2020 election, and a little bit about how the Trump administration is separating bondmates at the border. And then it’s time for Tommy to speak.    
  
“You wanted to say something, Tom?” Jon asks.   
  
“Yeah, um. Just, before we go.” Tommy shifts in his chair. “So, in case any of our listeners don’t know, the reason I’ve been out for the last few weeks is I’ve been recovering…” he gives a little cheerless chuckle, “from being shot. And, um. I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say about it in the future, and you all will get sick of hearing about how I feel about it, as I’m sure Jon and Lovett already are, but, uh… I just want to say that being a victim of gun violence has only solidified, in my mind, how important the fight we are, um, fighting, against gun violence is, and how wrong the people are, who think that it doesn’t exist.” Tommy takes a breath; everyone in the studio breathes with him. “Everyone knows the statistics on gun violence, but, uh, they’re worth reiterating: Gun homicides kill about 13,000 people in the United States every year. Nearly 1,300 children die from gun-related injuries every year. The United States is the site of more mass shootings than any other country in the world, and there’s a reason for that. But it’s not just mass shootings. It’s domestic abuse, and gang violence, and other incidents that maybe wouldn’t have happened if a gun hadn’t been as easy to access… like the one that shot me.” Tommy swallows. “I don’t think that another guy with a gun would have saved me. What saved me was the great work of the paramedics who worked on me, and the doctors who performed surgery on me to make sure I could spend the rest of my life fighting for those who can’t. And -”    
  
Tommy glances at Dan; for a moment Dan thinks he’s going to talk about him. But something flashes in Tommy’s eyes. Maybe the memory is too raw, or too personal, or maybe Tommy’s still bitter about the bond. Either way, Dan realizes that Tommy isn’t going to bring him up.    
  
“And that’s all I wanted to say.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Lovett takes a sip of his Diet Coke and then sets it down.    
  
“Well, what a happy note to end the podcast, Tommy,” he says, and the tension is broken. They all laugh, and Jon begins the outro. 

As they’re collecting their things and taking off headphones, Tommy turns to Dan. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention you, before,” he says, “I just…”    
  
Dan waits for a moment. But it seems like Tommy himself doesn’t have an ending to that sentence.    
  
“It’s okay,” Dan says, “how’s the, uh,” he gestures to his neck.    
  
Immediately all of the light and good will leaves Tommy’s expression. Fuck. Couldn’t Dan just leave well enough alone?    
  
“It’s fine.” Tommy turns away and finishes shoving his laptop into its case.    
  
Dan sighs and makes himself scarce. He should’ve just ignored the subject; but how could he? What if Tommy was having headaches, or hormonal imbalances from the bond? What if - what if he was having trouble holding up the block? 

Dan thinks again about a big house by the shore, and resolves to leave Tommy alone from now on.

\---

“Okay, dude, you can’t keep avoiding me forever.”    
  
Dan looks up from his laptop and is momentarily taken aback by how fucking piercing Tommy’s gaze is. Jesus, and they say  _ his  _ eyes are blue.    
  
“I’m not avoiding you,” he says smoothly.    
  
“You’re a terrible liar,” Tommy replies without missing a beat. “And besides, even if you weren’t avoiding me, I’d still need to talk to you. I know that you’re not doing okay, and we need to talk about it so we can fix it.”    
  
Dan swallows. “Nothing to fix,” he says, “and are you sure you want to talk about this here?”    
  
Tommy looks around the office. Jon and Lovett are both working with headphones in. Tanya and Priyanka are discussing something in a corner, and Travis isn’t even at his desk. “Here is fine, I don’t care. And neither should you, by the way. You’re not the one with the bite mark on your neck.” 

That sours Dan’s mood immediately. “I’ve said I’m sorry.” Dan’s not sorry about  _ doing  _ it, but he’s sorry about the mark. In other circumstances it would be obscene; someone far too enthusiastic about bonding with their partner. In Tommy’s case it just looks like he was attacked by a sloppy vampire.    
  
“I know you are. I’m not trying to guilt you. But it’s obvious you’re having a hard time and we need to deal with it before this whole ‘blocking each other out’ thing stops working entirely.”    
  
Dan looks down and tries to stop himself from feeling ashamed. It’s true that he’s been having a hard time. It turns out that bonds aren’t meant to be closed 24/7, and while it is something a person can control, it’s not always easy to do so. Dan finds himself struggling to put up a wall, to contain his thoughts and feelings. It’s a bit like trying to keep your eyes closed when you’re not tired. 

He’s been trying to convince himself that he’s just not had enough practice with the bond, but the truth is that he’s probably at a disadvantage. Having two strokes while in the White House thankfully had left him relatively unaffected, but blocking a bond is completely mental and requires a certain level of energy that Dan evidently doesn’t have all the time.    


“Have… have you been hearing me?” Dan asks. He doesn’t know if he’d know if Tommy were able to sense him through the bond. He has no idea how any of this works. 

“What? No.” Tommy shakes his head. “But I can - I don’t know, I can feel that you’re there. It’s like…” Tommy reaches over and gently pushes Dan on the shoulder. Dan frowns at the action, because it’s weird. “It’s like that, but in my mind. I can feel that you’re there. And more importantly, I can see, with my eyes, that you’re fucking exhausted.” Tommy leans back against the windowsill by Dan’s desk. “You look like you’re going to pass out, dude.”    
  
Dan didn’t know it was so obvious. “I’m just - it’s hard to keep up the block.” 

Tommy sighs. “I mean, we could… we could still think about severing it…”    
  
Dan feels his whole body tense up at the idea. “I… I guess.” Dan really fucking hates how Tommy just throws that idea around. Sure, Tommy doesn’t want the bond, but… it’s fucking brain surgery, and Dan would need to go under the knife too, and just… no. Fuck no.

“Okay, obviously you are not keen on that idea. So let’s think of another option.” 

Dan tries to wrack his brain. It’s been a long day already, and it’s not even four. “We could try… drugs?”

Tommy considers that. “Are bond suppressants even covered by insurance?”    
  
“I’d have to check the statute, I’m not sure how the SCOTUS ruling affected it.” 

Tommy nods, closing his eyes. “I forgot about the SCOTUS ruling.” 

There’s a pause. Dan shifts a little in his chair. “Look, it’s not - we’re throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I’m not - I don’t need to break the bond completely, or even suppress it. I just need… some rest. I can’t hold up my end all the time.” 

Tommy bites his lip. “I mean… Do you need time off? Time to… I don’t know, recharge?”    
  
That idea doesn’t so bad. “You mean, like, I would just lower my end of the block for a little bit?”    
  
“Yeah. I’d keep mine up, so I wouldn’t be listening in. You’d have a chance to rest.” Tommy crosses his arms. He makes it all sound very simple. (He’s good at that - Dan confesses that he didn’t understand a lot of foreign policy nuances before Tommy explained them.) 

“I mean… how much time are we talking, here?” Dan glances over at Lovett, who is glancing up at them every few minutes like he’s interested in what they’re talking about but also not slick enough to subtly take his earbuds out and eavesdrop. 

“I dunno, how much time do you need?”    
  
Immediately Dan’s stupid sense of pride, masculinity, and competitiveness kicks in. Tommy doesn’t need any time; Tommy can keep up the bond for as long as he wants. Tommy has a fucking bullet wound in his side that’s only recently healed and yet  _ he’s  _ managing this bond just fine.    
  
“An hour,” Dan says with confidence. An hour really is all he needs. That’s long enough for him to recharge without feeling like he’s the weaker part of this relationship. 

“You’re sure? You don’t need longer?”    
  
“I think that should be fine. If I need more, I’ll let you know.”    
  
“Okay, so, when do you want to do this? Now?” Tommy shrugs.    
  
“No, no, not now.” Dan feels suddenly put on the spot. “Can we just… save it for when I feel more relaxed? If I’m going to, I don’t know, have more space in my head, I’d like to use it properly.”    
  
“Whatever you want, dude.” Tommy shrugs. Dan can’t tell if Tommy is inconvenienced by this or if he genuinely doesn’t care. 

“We could do it… I don’t know, what time is good for you?” Dan tries to be casual because Tommy is casual. “I can do like, on the weekends.”    
  
“Sunday?” Tommy offers. “Might feel better on your head in the mornings.”    
  
That’s true. “Sounds good. Nine?”    
  
“Sure, that’s when I get back from my run. Cool,” Tommy nods and then walks back to his desk rather abruptly. He’s probably just glad to get the conversation over with.    


Dan’s just glad Tommy’s not mad at him.    
  
Sunday rolls around faster than Dan expected; the last few rays of summer sun peeking in through his windows. He peeks open one eye to peer at his phone; why the fuck is he up so early again?    
  
Oh.    
  
Rolling back onto his stomach, Dan tries to focus on the bond. How is he supposed to know when Tommy has put up his side of the block? Or, well, put it up  _ more?  _ This is all very confusing.    


As if on cue, there’s a slight shift in the bond, almost like a pressure. Dan can imagine a door closing, leaving him alone.    
  
It feels good, to not have to worry about his side of the bond for a bit. He lets down his defenses and rolls over to stare up at the ceiling.    
  
One hour every Sunday. That’s what they agreed on. One hour for Dan to be able to think his own thoughts and pretend it’s like it was before.    
  
He should get up and get some work done, be productive while he has all this space inside his own mind.    
  
(Dan proceeds to think idly about breakfast for the next fifteen minutes, and then falls back asleep.)   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The statistics about gun violence were from here: https://www.health.com/family/gun-violence-statistics-public-health. If you'd like to fight the epidemic of gun violence in America, you should donate to Moms Demand Action.  
As always, thanks to @fizzy for beta-ing this chapter.


	3. On Eggs, and Frogs

The thing about Tommy Vietor is that he’s good looking. Handsome. Easy on the eyes.

Dan has always known this, because it’s an aspect of Tommy’s… Tommy-ness that simply cannot be ignored. He’s got muscles and blond hair and blue eyes, a triple threat to anyone who can see, regardless of orientation. This isn’t to say that Dan’s been thinking about it, except that he has. Specifically, he’s been thinking about how Tommy’s good looks make him really fucking intimidating. The rest of it he hasn’t really been thinking about at all, because it doesn’t bother him. This? This is bothering him.

Dan can talk to anyone, absolutely anyone. Once you’ve brought up something stupid that the President has said or is planning to say, you can basically confront anyone. But maybe Dan’s getting soft now that he’s older; maybe it’s because it’s such a high-stakes and personal topic, or maybe it’s because he wants to talk to a friend, and talking to a friend is harder than talking to the President because his own emotions are involved. He’s never been as good at talking about things when they affect him personally. Either way, it’s difficult to say what he wants to say to Tommy.

Every time he thinks he’s gathered the courage, Tommy looks at him with those bright blue eyes and blond hair and strange alien effervescence and Dan’s brain goes _yikes!_ It’s not a good _yikes!_, either. Dan had a professor in college that made him feel that way, and he’s pretty sure he didn’t do well on any of his papers because he was too freaked out to ask him any questions. It’s not the good way of noticing that Tommy’s attractive; it’s more like being in a very cluttered china shop, with narrow walkways. Dan worries that he could break something if he doesn’t tread carefully, like their friendship is one of his great Aunt Stella’s ornamental figurines that always used to freak him out when he was a kid and forced to spend visits in her parlor.

It’s Sunday; Dan and Tommy had their hour of distance in the bond early in the morning, after coordinating it the night before. Dan had stood under the warm spray of his shower and tried to enjoy the open air of his mind. It felt… It felt… It didn’t feel good. It felt… wrong. Almost… empty.

But he’s going to talk to Tommy about that today. He’s not going to avoid it. He’s going to bring it up.

Pod Save America is going back to school on the weekend. There’s a speaking engagement at the local university; Dan, Tommy, Jon and Lovett are going to be interviewed, and then they’ll take questions from students. It’ll be fun; as much as any sort of work engagement on a Sunday can be fun. Even Lovett seems to be looking forward to it; there’s not much to complain about strolling through a sunny college campus, talking about policy for an hour and a half with earnest, engaged students hanging on their every word, and then going home to relax.

They all meet up at a diner beforehand for brunch first; Jon and Lovett sit near the window, while Dan and Tommy sit on the counter side, Tommy turning and staring at the neatly frosted cakes in the display case.

Dan wishes he had a bondmark himself, so he wouldn’t be fucking obsessing over Tommy’s. Whenever he can’t see it, he wants to see it, like some sick reminder of what happened, to remind himself that Tommy is still alive. Whenever he can see it, he feels bad for putting it there in the first place.

_Relax. Tommy’s here, and he’s fine with you, and you’re fine with him. Aren’t you going to ask him the thing, today?_

Dan will. Just… not right now.

The waitress comes and takes their orders, and once again Dan orders a bagel and cream cheese and French fries, because he’s weird, and also old enough to not care what anyone else thinks. Lovett orders a burger; Jon French toast. Tommy orders a whopping three scrambled eggs and toast.

“A decade of knowing you, Tom, and I never knew you like your eggs scrambled,” Jon comments after swallowing a mouthful of syrup-drenched toast. (Jesus, how does he eat something that sweet? Upon second thought, this is the three-pump frappuccino guy.)

Tommy shrugs. “How do you like them?”

“Omelet,” Jon says simply. “You?” He nods at Dan.

Dan has to consider. “I like them all sorts of ways. Sunny side up?”

Jon nods. “That tracks.”

“How does that track?”

“You like sunshine,” Jon says, as though it’s obvious.

“So… that follows into my egg preferences?”

“Lovett,” Tommy says, reaching over the table, “put your phone down.”

Lovett sheepishly lowers his phone with the expression of someone who is glad to be taken out of his own head. “Sorry.”

Dan smiles encouragingly. “What’s so interesting?”

“Nothing,” Lovett shrugs, “just - someone tweeted, correctly, that the President should not be talking about nuking hurricanes.”

Everyone nods in agreement. “Probably not a good idea, no,” Tommy deadpans.

“Though I have to point out,” Dan says, “it wouldn’t be the dumbest thing that the United States government has ever done.”

“That’s true,” Jon says. “We did enter another country looking for weapons that didn’t exist.”

“We’re not the only country to do weird shit, either,” Tommy offers. “The British used a dead man to spread information to the Nazis in World War Two.”

“Operation Mincemeat,” Jon says with a grin.

“And the United States planned on using bats to spread napalm to German homes in World War Two, too,” Dan adds.

Everyone turns to look at him.

“What?” Lovett says flatly.

“That’s what we did,” Dan says, “you guys didn’t know this?”

Tommy shakes his head. “Do you mean, like, baseball bats, or -”

“No, I mean like actual bats.” Dan takes a bite of his bagel. “Um, the army put these little backpacks on bats with bombs inside, and they put them in these little hibernating chambers, and they were going to shoot them into German towns, the idea being that they’d go nest in German homes, and then…”

“Boom,” Lovett says with wide eyes.

“Oh my God, that’s insane,” Tommy grins.

“Absolutely crazy,” Dan agrees, “but it happened. I mean, they didn’t have drones back then, and they wanted to burn down cities…”

“You cannot justify that, Dan!” Jon laughs. “There is no way to say that without making it sound absolutely nuts!”

“No, you’re right,” Dan shrugs with a smile, “but I don’t know… they thought it was a good idea at the time.”

Tommy ponders the idea, scratching his chin. “I mean, does that matter, if it was stupid either way, and didn’t even work? I assume it didn’t, otherwise I feel like I would’ve seen a memorial to all the bats who gave their lives during World War Two.”

“No, uh, the bats actually didn’t fly very far and burned down the army base.” Dan’s response makes Lovett snicker into his cole slaw. “But, I mean - sometimes people do stupid stuff because it seems necessary at the time.”

Tommy looks up from his eggs, and Dan realizes that maybe he’s touched a nerve. Tommy opens his mouth to speak -

And a few feet away, a waitress drops a cup of coffee and the mug shatters all over the floor.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy says. Both he and Dan immediately jump up with napkins and go over to where the waitress is picking up pieces of a broken mug, blushing furiously and cursing under her breath.

“Sorry, sorry,” the waitress says.

“It’s okay,” Dan says to her.

“Accidents happen,” Tommy offers with an angelic smile. Of course this only makes the waitress blush harder; Tommy says that they’ll clean the rest of it up and she goes to get another cup of coffee for the customer.

Dan looks up at Tommy as they’re mopping up coffee with napkins. “Hey, um. I’ve been needing to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Uh, you know how we have our… hour, every Sunday?”  
  
“Yeah, did something happen this morning?” Tommy frowns in concern, wadding up the napkins and walking over to the trash can by the door.

“No, I just… okay, listen.”

Tommy turns towards him, and Dan gets accosted by frosty blue eyes. _Yikes!_

“Um, it… it feels weird, to do it alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… lying there, alone in my thoughts. It feels weird. It feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Tommy looks a little confused. “How can it be an invasion of privacy if the whole point is that I’m blocking you out?”

“I don’t know. I - my point is, um, do you think we could get together, sometimes, when we do this? We don’t even have to talk, during it. We can just… I don’t know, you can sit on your phone, or whatever, if you want. I just - I think I’d feel better if you were around.”

Dan can’t even really articulate why. He just thinks he’d feel better about the entire situation if they were doing it together instead of apart.

Tommy doesn’t put up a fight like Dan expected. He just nods and says, “okay. Do you want to get brunch again, next Sunday?”

Wow, that was easy. “Sure.” Dan is electric with relief.

Lovett calls back from the table. “Hey, get over here before I eat your toast, Vietor!”

Tommy and Dan roll their eyes at each other and walk back to their spots in the booth.

\---

Dan doesn’t know why he’s nervous.

They’ve been doing this for nearly a month, now. Dan will wake up early on Sundays, and he’ll meet up with Tommy at a diner, or in a park, or some quiet place, and they’ll have their Hour together. That’s what it feels like - it feels deserving of a capital H.

It’s strange, to think that maybe they’re getting closer to each other during moments when they’re further away from each other in the bond. But something about having his own space in the bond relieves the pressure on Dan. He’s less irritable, less tired, and therefore more able to devote himself to repairing his relationship with Tommy.

Part of being a good friend to Tommy is making sure that Tommy knows he doesn’t need to put up a front with him. Tommy’s pretty good at staying chipper and pleasant in the office, but Dan can tell that when it’s just the four of them, Tommy’s quieter. He gets tired more easily, too, and sometimes Dan catches him with a mopey look on his face, like he’s not sure where he’s supposed to be in the world.

It’s called depression, and it’s a bitch, and it apparently was rearing its ugly head when Dan called this morning.

“I just… I couldn’t get out of bed,” Tommy had said. His voice had sounded dead and defeated. “I’m sorry, dude. I know you like when I’m there, and I like it, too. I just… I have zero energy, today.”

“It’s okay,” Dan had said. “Do you - do you feel up to my coming over? I can just leave you alone, if you want.”

“No, I mean - if you still want to come over and hang out, that’s… that’s okay.” Tommy makes a muffled noise that kind of sounds like he’s groaning into a pillow. “I don’t know how much fun I’m going to be, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“That’s okay. I’ll make us lunch, and then we can just sort of chill for a bit.” Dan prides himself on being The Chill Friend. He doesn’t require big plans or grand outings. He can just lie on the couch with whoever wants to hang out with him. He’s had enough crazy weekends for a lifetime, both in and out of the White House.

Still, for some weird reason, now that he’s standing on Tommy’s front doorstep, he’s nervous. He just doesn’t want to make things awkward. There’s a lot of potential for awkwardness, here. Do other grown men hang out at their friend’s house on Sunday mornings? Is that normal? Do Dan and Tommy even count in the realm of ‘normal’ anymore?

Tommy lets Dan in with a smile, and glances into the canvas grocery bag Dan had packed with muenster cheese, sourdough bread, two thick stalks of rhubarb, and a few other ingredients from his pantry. “What are you making?” He says. He still looks pretty tired, sitting at the kitchen counter. Dan wonders what’s been keeping him up.

“Rhubarb chutney grilled cheese,” Dan says. “The perfect lunch.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, grilled cheese and a twist on the idea of fig jam, because my brother doesn’t like figs when they’re not in Newtons.” Dan starts chopping up the rhubarb. “It’s his recipe. If you can even call it that.”

“I didn’t know that you were a cook,” Tommy says.

“I mean, I had to learn to be once I became a bachelor again.” Dan starts heating up the saucepan on the stovetop. “This recipe isn’t exactly rocket science, either. But it did get my brother and his wife to fall in love. Apparently she noticed the incredibly complicated gourmet meal of grilled cheese and beer that my brother cooked for her, and the rest is history.”

That earns a smile from Tommy. Dan motions for him to start constructing the sandwiches.

Lucca bounces up next to Tommy’s legs, hoping for a spare chunk of bread or some other dropped piece of food. Tommy coos at her and covertly drops a tiny piece of cheese, which she eagerly gobbles up.

Dan feels a soft presence through the bond, one he’s able to sense more clearly since his side of the bond is down. There’s a warmth and easy affection there; Tommy’s love for Lucca is, of course, uncomplicated and pure. Dan takes a moment away from the mixture of spices in the saucepan to admire Tommy’s smile. It’s good to see him happy. He looks good like this. Much better than he did just a month and a half ago.

Tommy looks up at him and meets his eyes, and something flickers over his face. Shit, did Dan make it awkward? He hopes he didn’t make it awkward. He tries to move on.

“She’s so cute,” Dan comments.

“She’s the best,” Tommy agrees. He finishes constructing the sandwiches, leaving them for Dan to apply chutney as he sees fit. Then he sits on the floor, gathering Lucca into his arms. “You don’t have a dog,” Tommy observes.

Dan raises an eyebrow. “No, I do not.”

“Why not?”

Dan shrugs. “Just never really thought about it. I guess I could get a dog. I don’t know. I’ve moved so much in the past few years it never really came up.” He looks down at Lucca. She’s an energetic little creature; maybe he’d have to get a dog that’s more mellow. The kind that sits at your feet and keeps you company at the end of a long day.

“They’re good for emotional support,” Tommy says. “I mean, you have no idea how much Lucca helped me after, um, what happened. And my therapist says that she’s good for making sure I don’t have nightmares and stuff.”

So nightmares aren’t what’s keeping him awake. “That sounds helpful. Maybe I should think about adopting an older dog from a shelter or something.”

Tommy stands and goes over to wash his hands. He pauses a little after he turns the faucet off. “You… get nightmares, too?”

Dan swallows, taking one sandwich off of the pan and transferring it to a plate. “Sometimes.”

Sometimes he tries to sleep and all he hears is sirens. Sometimes he wakes up and he can see, clear as day, the way redness had bloomed underneath Tommy’s t-shirt. Sometimes he can’t get the taste of iron out of his mouth.

Tommy clears his throat and goes over to the fridge to get them both cold cans of La Croix. “Um,” he says, “you don’t necessarily need to get a dog. You could get some other emotional support animal.”

Immediately ridiculous ideas pop into Dan’s mind. “What, like an emotional support parakeet?”

“You could have an emotional support iguana!” Tommy says.

“Really, we’d have to make some pretty cool Crooked Media merch for my emotional support fish.” Dan watches Tommy’s shoulders shake with laughter as he goes to take a seat. He slides a plate in front of him and gestures for Tommy to take a bite.

  
Tommy does so, and lets out what can only politely be described as a moan. “Oh my god,” Tommy says, “this is really fucking good.”

Dan nods and goes to get his own sandwich, sitting down next to him at the counter. “It’s not Momofuku, but it’s tasty.”

They eat their sandwiches in companionable silence. Once they’re both done, Tommy gets up and starts to rinse off the dishes, while Dan plays with Lucca.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Dan says, scratching behind Lucca’s ears, “if something’s keeping you up at night, do you think… talking about it might make things easier?”

Dan gets a quick flash of something through the bond, a feeling that comes through like lukewarm water being poured onto his skin. Embarrassment? It’s hard to say. Tommy always has his side of the block up, and he has it up even more, now, during their Hour, but it doesn’t mean that Dan can’t tell that he’s feeling something.

“It’s not, um. It’s not a mental thing. It’s…” Tommy sighs and finishes putting the plates in the dishwasher. “Here. Come with me.”

Dan stands and obediently follows Tommy to his bedroom. Tommy leads him to the middle of the room, where Dan waits expectantly.

Tommy’s quiet for long enough that Dan starts to wonder what they’re doing here.

“Tommy, I -”

“Shhh, just listen.”

Dan listens for a moment. It takes a while, but then he hears it.

_Ribbit._

He’s not sure he heard that right, so he listens harder.

_Ribbit._

“Is - is that a frog?”

Tommy nods. “I have no idea how it got in my house. Are frogs even native to L.A.?”

“I think some of them are.” Dan immediately starts to look around for the source of the ribbiting. “Do you know where the little guy is?”

“I know he, uh, is somewhere in the room, but I don’t know where.” Tommy looks around, his hands behind his back. He’s standing a little awkwardly.

“You haven’t gone looking for him?” On instinct, Dan gets on his hands and knees and starts looking. He thinks the sound came from behind Tommy’s nightstand…

“No, I’m…” Tommy’s voice is a lot quieter. “I don’t really like frogs.”

Dan pauses and turns back to look at his friend. “You mean you’re afraid of them.”

Tommy turns crimson. “No! Just - just a little.”

Dan nods and resists the urge to smile. “They’re harmless, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that! Doesn’t stop them from being green and slimy.” Tommy shifts uncomfortably.

“Alright.” Dan leans down and looks under the nightstand. Sure enough, there’s a little lump in the corner from whom Dan can hear a soft _ribbit_.

It takes some quick reflexes - as soon as he moves Tommy’s nightstand, the frog starts to hop away, but Dan grabs the little guy and ignores how he’s squirming in his hand.

“Get me a cup and a plate?” He asks. Tommy, who looks all too happy to be out of the vicinity of the frog, goes to fetch the items.

Tommy comes back, but he’s hesitant to enter the room, staring apprehensively at Dan’s hands. Dan has never seen him even a little bit frightened or freaked out before.

“Here, I’ll show you the little guy and you won’t be afraid anymore.” Dan gestures for Tommy to hold the cup out.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Tommy replies.

“I’ll protect you,” Dan says. He’s sincere.

Tommy looks hesitant, but the embarrassment Dan felt through the bond has gone away. He holds out the cup, and Dan drops the little green creature in, covering it with the plate. Tommy stares down at it, frowning.

“Isn’t it cute?” Dan holds up the cup to Tommy’s eye.

For a moment there’s fear written all across Tommy’s face, but then he meets Dan’s eyes, and his expression softens. He takes another look at the frog. “I guess it’s kind of cute,” he says.

“Let’s go release him outside so you can sleep,” Dan says.

They make their way out to Tommy’s front doorstep, where Dan releases the frog in the dirt by a nearby bush.

“Hey, Dan?” Tommy says.

“Yeah?”

“I think I have your perfect emotional support animal.” Tommy nods seriously. “I think you should get a frog.”

Dan tilts his head back and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The United States really did use bat bombs. You can read more about them and the use of napalm in war in Napalm: An American Biography, by Robert Neer.  
2\. The British actually did use a corpse to spread misinformation to the Nazis during WW2. It was called Operation Mincemeat and you can look it up on Wikipedia.  
3\. I made rhubarb chutney grilled cheese for my boyfriend and it was delicious. I will send you the recipe if you want it. 
> 
> As always, many, many thanks to @fizzy for the beta. She is the reason that this fic is as good as it is, if it is any good! :)


	4. On Dates, and Photographs

There’s this ad that Dan fucking hates.    
  
Okay, maybe hate is too strong of a word. Dan doesn’t really have anything against the ad - it’s not a political ad or promoting the gun lobby, it’s just an ad for some grocery delivery service -- but it still grates on him every time it comes up when he’s watching a youtube video. In the ad, there’s a “meet cute” between two twenty-somethings. The woman is in an Uber, and a man opens the door and then apologizes for getting in the wrong car. The woman then says, “no, you can ride in this one”. They’re going in the same direction, for some reason. They flirt the entire time, giggling over the woman’s choices in salsa ingredients. The ad ends with the two of them agreeing on a date.   
  
Dan thinks this ad is absolutely ridiculous. Do people really hop into other people’s Ubers? If so, do they really talk the entire time? Dan cannot possibly imagine that happening. It's absurd in a way that just seems crazy.   
  
He can’t imagine that happening… until it happens to him.    
  
Yeah, so. Apparently “meet cutes” really do happen, and they happen to thirty year olds in Los Angeles. The woman’s name is Vivian, and when Dan opens the car door, the first thing he thinks is,  _ holy shit, she’s like something out of a magazine.  _

“Oh, fuck, this is your car,” he says, and moves to close the door.    
  
“No, it’s okay!” Vivian blinks with wide blue eyes. “Are you going downtown?”    
  
“Uh, yeah, actually.”    
  
“Come with me! We can carpool.”    
  
Dan isn’t sure how happy the Uber driver is about this, but he gets in the car and cancels his own scheduled pickup.    
  
Vivian is super funny, and super charismatic, and they hit it off right away in the thirty minute drive to Dan’s appointment downtown (who knew therapists specializing in PTSD were so far away?). They talk about where she’s going - she’s an engineer, she helps design more environmentally conscious architecture, and she’s going downtown to talk to a client.    
  
He doesn’t think he’s been this fascinated with someone so quickly since he met all of the people he was going to work with at the White House. But the Obama administration was designed to be full of brilliant people; he just met Vivian randomly in a car! 

They make plans to go to dinner in a week; Vivian travels for work, so she’s not going to be back in L.A. for a little while. But it’s only been three days since they met and they’ve texted almost nonstop since then; Dan doesn’t think there’s going to be a problem keeping the spark alive.    
  
He’s going to go on a date, for what feels like the first time in ages. A real date.    
  
He should get a haircut or something.    
  
He’s actually scheduling said haircut when Alyssa calls him up, the ringtone she put on his phone especially for her audible through the office.    
  
Jon grins at him. “That your girlfriend?” he teases.    
  
Dan rolls his eyes and grins as he goes out into the hall. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Okay, maybe he's been talking about Vivian to literally everyone in his immediate vicinity.    
  


Turns out, Alyssa’s going to be in town soon, and she’s finally taken Dan up on his offer to stay in his house, like they’re both real adults who can help each other out when they travel.    
  
She tells him when she’s visiting, and he makes a little noise into the phone.    
  
“What? What is it? I can always stay at a hotel.” 

“No, it’s fine, I can - I dunno, I just…” Dan hasn’t told Alyssa about Vivian. He doesn’t want her to think he’s falling too fast. (He’s done that before.) “I kind of have a date on that Tuesday?”    
  
There’s a little gasp from the other end of the line. “Oh, Danny boy, a date?!”    
  
Dan chuckles. “Yes, Alyssa, a date. With a real live woman, too!”    
  
Lovett passes him in the hall and gives him a weird look, presumably because he now thinks that Dan is used to either a) not dating women, or b) not dating women who are alive or real.    
  
“I”ll stay in a hotel,” Alyssa says, “so then I don’t need to get in the way of your sweet sweet lovemaking -”    
  
“Oh my god,” Dan laughs, “please stop saying that.”    
  
“Really, Dan, I’m happy that you’re getting back into the dating game. Tell me when you’re done fucking your new hot girlfriend, and we’ll do dinner.”    
  
Dan is about to sling a pretty good comeback, but then Alyssa hangs up. She likes to do that; hang up without saying goodbye. She says that it makes her feel like she’s in an episode of Law and Order.    
  
He loves Alyssa, a lot.    
  
The week passes without much going on, except for Trump being a fucking moron (not unusual) and his friends teasing him relentlessly (also not unusual). Tommy, Jon and Lovett have harvested plenty of material from Dan’s preoccupation with Vivian. It probably doesn’t help that he talks about her at every opportunity. He knows it’s silly and that he’s lovesick - he doesn’t care. He gets crushes pretty easily, but none of them have felt like they might really  _ go  _ somewhere like this one does.

Mostly Dan is just happy that things are going back to normal. It’s been almost two months since Tommy got shot, and ever since then it’s seemed like the whole office has been walking on eggshells. Tommy’s probably been getting the worst of it - for the longest time Priyanka would get fucking teary-eyed whenever she looked at him too long - but Dan’s felt the shift in behavior, too. It’s like they’re all worried about him, worried that he’ll experience flashbacks or something. If a few jabs at his expense are what’s necessary to get things back to normal, then Dan is 100% okay with that. 

“We should get Vivian on the podcast,” Tommy jokes, leaning back in his chair. He’s playing with a pencil, twirling it between his fingers and tapping it against his lips. He’s supposed to be writing an article, but Dan’s been watching him for a few minutes and he hasn’t seen a word typed.    
  
“Dan would not have anything substantial to say for the interview,” Favs laughs. “He’d be staring at her with hearts in his eyes the entire time, like a cartoon character.”    
  
“Maybe we should extend the brand into a relationship podcast,” Lovett chimes in. “Pod Save the Romance.”    


Dan rolls his eyes. “I get it!” He cuts in. “I’ll stop talking about her.”    
  
“No, that’s not what we meant,” Tommy waves his hand. “We’re just messing with you.”    
  
Dan doesn’t mind being messed with, if it’s Tommy. He’s glad that they’re friends again. Their little get-togethers every Sunday have been nice. They’ve also stopped Dan’s thoughts from shoving themselves into Tommy’s head, which Dan imagines would be pretty fucking annoying, especially now that he has this… crush, if that’s what he’s calling it. 

Tuesday night rolls around. It’s his date with Vivian.  
  
Vivian of course looks incredible when he picks her up, even if she’s just in a cute blouse and jeans. Dan put on his nicest button down for the occasion, and even tried on some of the cologne his sister in-law gave him for Christmas (was that a polite way of telling him he smelled bad? He hopes not).    
  
Dinner goes… really well, actually. They talk about their work, and then what movies they’ve seen recently, and then what pets they plan to have in the future. (Vivian has a little fish in a tiny tank in her room, but she hopes to have a big aquarium someday. Unique!) They don’t talk about Trump, except for one moment where she mentions how “He Who Must Not Be Named” has affected her job, and how she’s not being contacted by the government for projects nearly as often anymore. It’s really nice not to talk about politics. It’s nice to just talk to a person who doesn’t see Dan as the former communications director for Obama, or a podcaster for Crooked Media - she just sees Dan as a guy who thinks Inception is an underrated movie and that adult summer camps are a concept he doesn’t fully understand but would love to try someday.    
  
It’s around dessert that things turn south. Dan’s talking about his time in D.C. as compared to his time in Los Angeles when he feels… something. It’s a weird twinge in his mind that makes him set his fork down, wincing. It’s not quite pain, but there’s certainly discomfort coming through the bond. It’s a flash in his mind that comes through in different ways, all negative - walking through a cloud of cigarette smoke on the street, nicking himself with a razor in his bathroom, the sound of pans crashing in the kitchen of the home he’s created for himself.

“You okay?” Vivian asks.    
  
“Yeah, I’m… fine.” Dan shakes his head as if to clear it. “Just… something with my bondmate.”    
  
As soon as he says the word he can feel the energy between him and Vivian shift. He’d hoped to maybe slide that into the discussion without any fanfare, but it’s clear that’s not going to happen.    
  
“You’re bonded?” Vivian asks.    
  
“Uh, yeah.”    
  
“Does your bondmate know you’re on a date?” She looks a little nervous.    
  
“No, but. We’re not together.”    
  
“Oh.” Vivian looks away for a moment and then looks back. “Messy divorce?” It’s not an unreasonable assumption. Any divorce involving a bond would have to be messy.    
  
“Uh, no. We’re just friends, actually. He, um, got really hurt, and I bonded with him to…”    
  
“I see.” Vivian nods in awkward understanding. “Sounds like you did a really nice thing.” Her tone suggests that she doesn’t quite believe him. Dan probably wouldn’t believe himself, either. It’s kind of a far-fetched story, the kind of thing you hear about on the news. 

“It was okay.” He gives her a tight smile and tries to change the subject. “So, tell me more about why I need to watch all of the Marvel movies.”    
  
The rest of the date goes fine, but… Dan can tell that something’s off. He can tell it even more when she awkwardly kisses him on the cheek after he walks her home.    
  
Walking down the sidewalk, looking up at the midnight blue sky, devoid of stars because of the light from the city, Dan wonders if it was what he said about the bond that made her so standoffish.    
  
He calls Alyssa. “Hey.”    
  
“Hey,” Alyssa replies, “what’s up? I figured you’d be busy making out with your new girlfriend.”    
  
“Uh, not really.” Dan turns a corner and starts walking down the street. Despite driving to her neighborhood, he had wanted to walk Vivian to the restaurant and back home because it seemed romantic; now he wonders if it was weird to do that. “I mean, that isn’t to say the date didn’t go well.”    
  
“Buuuut….”    
  
“But I am not making out with her, no.” Dan rolls his eyes. “Not that we expect that.”    
  
“Aw, you’re such a gentleman,” Alyssa coos. “What do you think happened?”    
  
“Well, I may have let it slip that I was bonded.”    
  
Alyssa audibly sighs into the phone. “She had to find out sometime.”    
  
“Yeah, but… wouldn’t that be a second or third date kind of thing?”    
  
“Mmm, I’m not sure.” Alyssa sounds like she’s thinking. “I feel like I’d want to be told right away.”    
  
“It’s not like I’m  _ dating  _ my bondmate,” Dan protests, “I just…”    
  
“You don’t have to tell me, Pfeiffer. I already know you.”    
  
“All too well,” Dan chuckles. “Listen, I know it’s late, but…”    
  
“Do you want me to come over and watch Law & Order with you?”    
  
“Yes,” Dan confesses. Alyssa makes everything better; besides, he doesn’t have her in town for very long, and he wants to make the most of it.    
  
It only occurs to him after he’s on the couch and Alyssa’s resting her head on his shoulder while they watch Jerry Orbach interrogate someone that he should text Tommy and see if everything’s alright.    
  
_ Hey, is everything okay?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yeah, what’s up?  _ _   
_

_ Nothing, just got a weird vibe through the bond.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Nope, all fine here. Did the date go well?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Not sure. Maybe 75% went okay, but the other 25%....  _ _   
_

_ Did she notice the bond?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yeah, how did you know?  _ _   
_ _   
_ There’s a slight pause before Tommy texts back.  _ Just a feeling. You’re not the only one who’s been having trouble in that department.  _

Oh. Right. Tommy would probably be having the same problem that Dan has. Dan doesn’t even have a giant bite mark on his neck; that would probably end most dates before they even started.    
  
_ Sorry about that.  _ It feels like he’s said that to Tommy both too much and not enough.    
  
_ Don’t worry about it. Just wish the date had gone better for you.  _ _   
_ _   
_ Dan sets his phone down and decides to put both Tommy and Vivian out of his mind for the rest of the night.    


\---

It’s the early days of September, and Pod Save America is back on tour. 

Dan can’t believe how good it feels to be back in a crowd. He’s never been a performer or a politician, so even he’s surprised at how much he’s missed doing live shows. Something about the way everyone hangs on what you’re saying; the chance to really motivate people to take action… it’s indescribable.    
  
They’re in Utah, and Lovett has prepared an entire set of beehive jokes to fall back on just in case Tommy or Dan need to take a break. But Dan doesn’t think they’ll be needed - he made eye contact with Tommy earlier, and Tommy flashed him a thumbs up.    
  
It’s been one summer since the shooting. Dan has managed to go an entire month without having nightmares. Soon, Tommy will be able to start doing real exercise again, instead of the dumb stretches he’s been complaining about for the last three months.    
  
They still do their… ritual, or routine, or whatever it’s called. One hour, every Sunday. Dan comes over, often with bagels, and they enjoy each other’s company.    
  
Dan wants to say that it’s gotten easier, to control the bond. But honestly, it hasn’t. It still weighs heavy on his head when he can feel his own control slipping, especially after a long day. He can hear footsteps in the other room; can see the shadows of Tommy’s thoughts inside his mind. He knows how much Tommy values his privacy; he’s grateful for that hour every week because it gives him the energy to keep up the block.    
  
Standing out in front of hundreds of cheering Friends of the Pod, Dan wonders if any of them are in a similar situation to his. If maybe they have moments of rest, where their bondmate isn’t home, but they’ve left a key under the mat.    
  
Dan doesn’t have a lot of time for introspection up on stage. There’s the headlines, and games, and a particularly riveting round of Okay, Stop featuring some truly incomprehensible nonsense from the mouth of the president. There’s a short interview, and then another game, hosted by Lovett, whose hidden talent of making politicians laugh in mild confusion reveals itself once more. 

The politician in question is Susan Fox, an energetic redhead who is running for the Senate in 2020, and who spent most of her career fighting in court for bondmates’ rights. She’s passionate and outspoken, and an expert on bonding legislation; naturally, Dan listens carefully to what she has to say.    
  
“The thing is,” Susan says, “for a long time, the Democratic Party’s stance has been that bonding is something that should only be discussed between partners - and that’s just not a viable option anymore. We don’t have to  _ like  _ it, but the Republicans are already there. They’re already banning the sale of suppressants, or making sure that insurance won’t cover them, or preventing them from being administered to victims of forced bonding.”    
  
“Not to mention what they’re doing about bond severance,” Jon ads.    
  
Susan nods. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. But it’s effective, so Democrats need to be equally effective in their messaging. It’s 2019 and Trump is president - it isn’t taboo to talk about bonding at the dinner table. And to those who think it is, I just want to say, go talk to Mitch McConnell! Go talk to the governor of North Carolina! Go talk to the entire Republican party, because they’re the ones who are in our schools, and they’re in our bedrooms, and they’re in our bonds. And it needs to stop.”    
  
There’s a light smattering of applause. Lovett plays with his notecards, left over from an earlier game.    
  
“Republicans in my bedroom,” he mutters into the microphone, “please, don’t give me nightmares.”    


Everyone giggles. Tommy leans over in his chair and says, “even Paul Ryan?”    
  
The crowd laughs louder as Lovett hides his face in his cards; Dan just shakes his head. (Paul Ryan is the least attractive man on the planet, in Dan’s mind.) 

“In all seriousness, though, um,” Tommy waits for the laughter to die down, “I do want to talk a little bit about what’s going on in North Carolina.” He clears his throat; Dan thinks he sees Tommy sneak a glance at Jon. “As you guys may have noticed, I’ve actually been recently bonded.” 

There’s a few stray whoops in the back of the auditorium; most people just laugh nervously or stay silent. 

Tommy’s downplaying the situation. Many, many people have noticed. Dan’s seen Tommy’s twitter mentions, along with the stray photo in whatever Z-list magazine is using them as sorry excuses for “celebrities.” It’s not a surprise; Tommy’s good looking, had a near death experience, and now shows up on livestreams with a very visible scar on his neck. Nearly all of the buzz about the subject goes towards speculation about who Tommy’s bonded to; everyone from Tommy’s ex-girlfriends to Jon and Lovett to, hilariously, Beto O’Rourke has been listed as a potential bondmate. Interestingly, Dan’s name has been kept out of the running so far. He doesn’t really know how to feel about that.   
  
“Um, I’ve learned a lot of things from the experience, but, uh, being bonded has really opened my eyes to just how important bond suppressants are, and how important bond severance is, as a fundamental right of all Americans.”    
  
Jon stiffens, to Tommy’s left. On the other end of the stage, Dan can see that Lovett has started to nervously shuffle his cards.   
  
He feels his palms start to sweat. Unaware of the change in atmosphere, Tommy continues. 

“I mean, I love being bonded, it’s one of the best things that ever happened to me,” Tommy says to the audience, “but you don’t know until you’re bonded how big a part it’s going to play in your life.”    
  
The first part was a lie, told so smoothly that it was like an ice skater gliding across a rink. Tommy is an impeccable liar; Dan can see people in the audience nodding in understanding and agreement.    
  
“It’s a twenty-four hour a day thing, and if you’re not ready for it, or you don’t feel comfortable with it anymore, or God forbid it’s not - consensual -” Tommy’s voice trips slightly over the word, “then that must be… crushing.” 

Dan feels dread rise up in his throat. Does Tommy really feel this way about the bond? Is this why he's brought it up so many times? Dan thought things were going well. Has Tommy really been having this much trouble, still?    
  
He’s still talking, the audience hanging on his every word. “And, um, I’m a little ashamed that I didn’t really pay as much attention to it before - I think I did pay attention to it, but it was one of those things that really… getting closer to the issue changed it for me. And for so many Republicans to claim they love being bonded, and yet prevent suppressants from being covered by insurance, and ban bond severance in so many states… it’s really despicable. It’s absolutely despicable, and Democrats should do everything they can to prevent more damage from being done. Because for some people, options like severance are their only way out.”    
  
The room erupts in applause; part of it is probably just because Tommy has finally acknowledged that he’s bonded, but there’s no denying the emotion in his voice; he means what he says.    
  
Dan feels nauseous. His legs feel like lead; his tongue thick in his mouth. He wants to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

The show ends shortly after that, a small blessing in what is turning out to be an absolute nightmare of a night for Dan. He forces a smile and waves goodbye to the audience, giving a terse excuse to Jon for missing any impromptu meet-and-greet and escaping the crowded room as fast as possible.    
  
The world seems like it’s being shot in shaky-cam, like in a bad horror movie. Dan gets out of the building the long way round and gasps for air as soon as he gets out to the sidewalk outside the back of the venue; it’s starting to get colder in the evenings but Dan welcomes the chill on his skin.    
  
God, he was so fucking stupid. Stupid to think this would ever work - no, stupid to think that just because it was working for  _ him  _ it was working for  _ Tommy.  _ He’d actually grown fond of their routine every Sunday, as if it wasn’t a band-aid on a bullet wound. 

Tommy experiences all of the hardships of having a bond that Dan does, and more. The fact that Vivian just wanted to stay friends with Dan? A drop in the bucket compared to what Tommy has to go through. He can’t go anywhere without people asking about the bite mark, or at least giving him strange looks. He’s a tabloid staple who can’t get a date, a guy with far too many scars on his body already, even before Dan gave him another one, a man who has to be twice as good at blocking the bond because Dan can only give half as much energy - and Dan thought this was actually  _ working -  _

“Hey!”    
  
Dan closes his eyes and wills himself not to cry. He’s been good at it since he was eight.    
  
He turns, and there’s Tommy, windswept and panting a little bit, like he ran outside.    
  
“I turned around and you were gone,” he says, “is, uh, is everything okay?” His voice is strange and distant to Dan’s ears, like he’s speaking underwater.   
  
Dan can barely get the words out. “Their only way out?” He manages.    
  
There’s a moment of silence as Tommy processes what Dan means. A breeze rolls past them both; Dan shivers.    
  
“You’re - is that what’s wrong?” Tommy asks. He sounds confused; Dan doesn’t see why he should be. He made himself pretty clear.    
  
“Look, if you wanted to stop… doing what we do, on Sundays, or even at all, you could have just said something.” Dan looks away and sticks his hands in his pockets. Half to himself, he says, “I guess you  _ did  _ tell me, two, three times, but I’m just too much of a coward to want to get fucking brain surgery -” 

“Dan!” Tommy exclaims. He doesn’t usually raise his voice and it shocks Dan out of his misery momentarily.    
  
“Listen to me.” Tommy’s voice is even and sure, matching his gaze. “The stuff I said back there? All true. I one hundred percent think that bond suppressants should be cheap and easy to get through insurance; I think that bond severance should be safe and legal, especially for nonconsensual bonds. I didn’t say what I said because I personally need either of those options. I said it because they’re options I think everyone should have access to, even if I don’t use them myself. More importantly, I said it  _ because it’s what I believe.  _ I believed it before I was bonded to you, and I believe it now. What we have, what we do? Doesn’t change that.”    


Dan feels like he’s teetering on the edge of relief; he doesn’t want to fall over just yet. “You… you don’t want to sever the bond?”    
  
Tommy sighs and gives him a smile that reminds Dan a little of how his mom used to smile at him when he claimed there were monsters under the bed. “No. I don’t want to sever the bond. I like what we’re doing. It’s not… ideal, no, and sometimes it really pisses me off, but I’m not going to ask you to go under the fucking knife to get rid of it. Not when what we’re doing has been working so well.” Tommy tilts his head and steps forward a little. “Besides,” he adds, “I like our Sundays. They’re nice.”    
  
Dan feels even more like a little kid when he asks, “Promise?”    
  
They both laugh a little; Tommy nods. “Promise.”    
  
For a moment, Dan thinks Tommy might be going in for a hug. But Tommy just reaches up and squeezes Dan’s shoulder, his thumb moving across his collarbone. It’s a good touch; it calms Dan down and tells him that as usual, he’s just been overthinking something, and really everything’s fine.    
  
Something shifts in Tommy’s expression; is he about to say something meaningful? Dan feels like they might be having a Moment; if so, Tommy needs to give him a moment because the last twenty minutes has been an emotional rollercoaster. 

Tommy says, “Dan.”    
  
Dan says, “yeah?”    
  
Tommy says, “Don’t look now, but there’s a photographer across the street taking our picture.”    
  
Dan of course immediately goes to look and Tommy hisses, “I told you not to look!”    
  
The photographer can’t be more than twenty years old, a kid holding up a shitty digital camera he probably borrowed from his college newspaper. Jesus, is this what passes for journalism these days?    
  
“Who cares?” Dan says. He shrugs.    
  
“We do,” Tommy corrects him, raising his eyebrows. “Unless you  _ want  _ to be known solely as Tommy Vietor’s dirty little secret.”    
  
Tommy has a good point. “Well, what should we do? Go over there and smash the camera?”    
  
Tommy grins. “I was thinking we’d talk to him, you know, like a certain communications director taught me to do.”    
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “I smashed cameras at the White House, too.” Not true, but he fantasized about it plenty of times.    
  
Tommy jogs across the street, blond hair glinting in the streetlight; Dan follows at a slower pace.    
  
The kid - and he really is just a kid - is trying to speedwalk away instead of running, which might have given him the advantage of being less conspicuous if Dan and Tommy hadn’t literally seen him taking their picture. Tommy easily has a foot on him; as he slows his pace and walks up, Dan thinks he can hear the kid say, “oh, fuck.” 

Tommy’s stance is easygoing, but Dan can see the tension in his shoulders; he’s not fucking around. When he speaks, his voice is casual, but with an edge to it.    
  
“Hey,” he says, “we, uh, saw you were taking our picture, over there.”    
  
The kid swallows. “Um…”    
  
“College newspaper?” Tommy grins self-deprecatingly. “I wasn’t able to get into mine. Turns out to be a cartoonist you actually have to be good at drawing.”    
  
The guy just nods, eyes wide. He has big glasses that are falling down his nose.    
  
“So you’re a real shutterbug, then?”    
  
“Uh, kind of.”    
  
“The next Pete Souza,” Dan offers, walking up next to Tommy.    
  
The kid nervously darts his eyes between the two of them. “I - I guess. I’m more - unbiased reporting.”    
  
Dan almost scoffs at that, but Tommy cuts in. “That’s cool, facts first. Wouldn’t expect anything less from a friend of the pod.”   
  
Dan didn’t even notice the kid’s t-shirt. Looking over at him, he can see the guy’s name in silver sharpie on the camera strap.    
  
“Hey, Calvin,” Dan says, and Calvin jumps at the use of his name, “being a good journalist means not distorting the facts, right?”    
  
“Right.” Dan needs to speed things up because this kid looks like he might pass out from nervousness.    
  
“Then you can see how a photo like that might distort the facts. Don’t you think it’s better if you delete it, so people don’t jump to the wrong conclusions?” Dan feels a little bad, because those conclusions might not be entirely wrong, but then he remembers how Tommy was touching him, and how that might look from a distance. 

“Uh…” For a moment there’s a spark in Calvin’s eye that Dan kind of admires; he got his photo fair and square, and he wants to take it back to his editor. If he really put up a fight, Dan’s not sure they could stop him; he doesn’t know the law about paparazzi in Utah. (Are there even real paparazzi in Utah? Is he allowed to use an Italian word like paparazzi in Utah? He’s been living in L.A. for too long.)

Then Tommy cuts in. “If you delete the photo - and we have to see you delete it - we’ll give you a selfie for your trouble.  _ And  _ I’ll give you a quote to take back to your editor.”    
  
Calvin’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”    
  
“Of course, dude. Friend of the Pod, remember?”    
  
Calvin nods in nervous agreement. “Okay,” he says.   
  
Tommy moves over to look at Calvin’s camera as he deletes the photo. Dan takes out his phone and calls Lovett to see where they should meet up.    
  
Dan should have trusted his instincts; they were right to tell him that, overall, everything is working out pretty well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Fizzy, as always, for beta-ing.


	5. On Running, and Lovett

For once, Dan's at Tommy’s house on a day other than Sunday.

It’s Tuesday morning; they have a show in twelve hours. They’re carpooling to the airport - or, rather, they’re going to carpool to the airport, once Tommy shows up. Right now, they’re all just sitting in his driveway, listening to the radio, checking their twitter feeds and wondering where the hell Tommy is. 

Dan’s had a productive morning; he ate breakfast, answered ten emails, showered, dressed, packed, and avoided a call from his brother by the time Favs had come to pick him up. Right now his body is still buzzing with that same energy, so he’s feeling pretty restless, tapping his fingers against the passenger side door. 

“Wish he’d answer his phone,” Lovett says from the backseat. 

“You know how he gets,” Jon replies. He’s scrolling through twitter on his phone.    
  
“We’re still early, for the record,” Dan points out. “We said we’d be here in…” He looks at his phone, “almost forty five minutes.”    
  
“I said I’d pick you guys up before nine,” Jon reminds him.    
  
“Yeah, and that can mean any time this morning,” Dan says. “We could have been here at six and still have been on time.”    
  
“Technically, you could have picked him up yesterday, and still have been on time,” Lovett adds. Jon rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.    
  
“My point is, he could still be asleep for all we know.” Dan looks at his phone, confirms that no, he doesn’t have any messages from Tommy, and clicks it off. 

“Tommy wouldn’t be asleep this late…” Jon peers out the window up at Tommy’s house. “He’s just not answering because -”    
  
“Because he’s dead in a ditch somewhere,” Lovett mutters.    
  
Both Jon and Dan turn around to look at him. “That’s not nice, Lovett,” Dan scolds, while Jon says, “Don’t say that shit, dude, not even as a joke.”    
  
“What? You guys were both thinking it.” Lovett slouches down further into his seat. “Tommy doesn’t always answer his phone but he has that dumb loud alarm for emails because he used to need it for when the President needed him to go to the Situation Room so they could bomb something.” 

“I don’t think that’s what Tommy’s job was,” Dan points out, but Lovett talks over him.    
  
“Tommy doesn’t always answer his phone, and he doesn’t always text back, but he always responds to emails. Guess what? I emailed him. If he were around, he’d answer it. If he were asleep, he’d wake up and answer it. He hasn’t answered. We should start getting worried.” Lovett nods his head a little, his curls bouncing as he finishes his mini-rant.    
  
“I’ll get worried once it’s time for us to go and he’s not here, okay?” Jon leans back in the driver’s seat. “My worry isn’t that he’s dead in a ditch somewhere, it’s that he went out for coffee or something and got stuck in traffic.”    


“His car’s in the driveway,” Lovett points out.    
  
“He could’ve taken his bike,” Jon replies.    
  
“It’s  _ my  _ bike,” Lovett grumbles.    
  
Dan doesn’t look up from his phone. “Do you ever use it?”    
  
Lovett is silent for a beat before answering, “Fine, community bike. Whatever. He’s still not here.”   
  
“It’s not as if we’re going to be late anyway. Our flight isn’t until way later.” Dan refreshes his own email page; there’s nothing from Tommy, just a message from his mom asking if he’s coming home for Christmas this year (of course he is; where else would he go?). “We’re going to get there nearly an hour early no matter what.”    
  
“I wanted to leave time to spare,” Jon says, in a voice that means  _ consider yourself lucky we’re not getting there two hours early.  _

Lovett lies on his back, spread out across the backseat. “So we’re just going to wait until nine.”    
  
“Yes.” Jon opens his phone and scrolls through his twitter feed again. “Unless you can tell me where Tommy is and we can go pick him up.”    
  
“I don’t know, I’m not the one with a backstage pass to his brain.” Lovett waves his hand in Dan’s direction.    
  
“It’s not a GPS,” Dan says, “I don’t know his exact location.”    
  
“But you’d know if something were really wrong, right?” Jon’s expression is serious. “Like, he’d… tell you, or whatever.”    
  
Dan focuses on the bond for a moment. He can still feel Tommy’s end blocking him out, like there’s a big brick wall in his head. That’s what Dan sensed the other times Tommy went missing in action. If he were hurt or in trouble, he probably wouldn’t be able to do that. 

“He isn’t telling me anything now, which tells me that he’s fine, and just not here right now.” Dan opens his phone back up, considering the matter settled. “We’re just going to wait until nine.”    
  
Lovett sits back up. “Dan, how does Waiting for Godot end?”    
  
“They wait for Godot,” Dan deadpans.

“Mmm,” Jon hums, without looking up from his phone.   


A little voice in the back of Dan’s mind says  _ You know, Tommy  _ has _ been acting weird lately.  _ Dan closes his eyes and pretends the voice is a fly he can shoo away. 

It’s been nearly four and a half months since the shooting; Tommy has healed completely and can now do all of the things that he was able to do before he got shot, including going to the gym and swimming and running and all sorts of other activities he hadn’t been able to do while he was cooped up at home, recovering from a gunshot wound. Tommy has embraced this newfound freedom with enthusiasm, taking part in nearly every activity he can participate in and using up every bit of energy that he has. He goes to the gym nearly every morning, if the wet hair and neon green bag he brings to the office is any indication. He stays late at the office, the glow of his laptop illuminating his face as he glances up to watch Dan leave for the day. At a live show a few weeks ago, he met with a few of the younger fans afterwards, outside of the venue; Dan looked away for a minute and when he looked back, Tommy was doing cartwheels with the kids.    
  
He’s energetic; but it’s a strange, manic sort of energy. There’s an edge of desperation to it that rubs Dan the wrong way. He remembers after his mini-strokes, when he had spent a long time recovering and began to feel his energy returning to him; there had been a period of time where he felt really strong, healthier even than he had been before he was hospitalized. But he didn’t pace himself, and in the process of recovering he nearly slipped back into exhaustion.    
  
Tommy isn’t Dan. If he’s struggling with his body’s limits, he’s not letting it show, either in person or through the bond. 

Would he even tell Dan if he was?    
  
Dan’s pondering this question when Lovett speaks up. “Hey, Eric Masterson’s been testifying for almost two hours now,” he says, “want me to pull up the stream?” 

“Fuck that guy,” Jon says, at the same time Dan says, “He’s not going to say anything anyway.” 

“I dunno,” Lovett leans forward, leaning on his knees. “Maybe the other six deadly sins will show up - you know, to support him.”    


“I assume this is about the price hike?” Jon leans his head back to look at Lovett.    
  
“Well it’s not about his generosity towards the bond rights community, that’s for damn sure,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. 

“He’s just… a sociopath,” Jon sighs. He pulls up his messages and Dan sees him send Tommy another text. 

Dan feels an old familiar rage rise in his throat. “Like… where does he get off?” He says. “As if it’s not bad enough that these people have trouble fucking  _ talking,  _ and processing words, and they’re more likely to - to -”

“To get Alzheimer’s,” Jon finishes.    
  
“To get Alzheimers, and they aren’t able to maintain a bond naturally - and the man has to take the one drug that lets them maintain a - a sense of fucking normality, and he has to raise the price by a factor of fifty-six -”    
  
“You’re preaching to the choir, man,” Jon cuts him off. It’s probably a good thing, too, because Dan felt a rant coming on.    
  
“You’d think Trump would have insulted him or something,” Lovett muses, “considering -”    
  
“How much he loves insulting people?” Jon jokes.    
  
“ _ Considering  _ how much Republicans supposedly value the bond between partners,” Lovett finishes. “Which - I cannot imagine how fucking awful it must be to be bonded to Trump, I feel  _ so  _ bad for Ivana.” 

“You’re right.” Jon refreshes his email on his phone. Nothing comes up, so he switches to the Slack; Dan can see the same picture of Lucca and Pundit in Priyanka’s living room that she had sent them all this morning. “Masterson should’ve raised the price of a bond suppressant, the Republicans would have given him a medal.”    
  
Dan scoffs. “He doesn’t need to raise the price of bond suppressants, they already cost a fortune.”    
  
Lovett shifts in the backseat. “Actually, I think Trump did tweet about it. Do you want me to read -”    
  
“ _ No,”  _ Jon and Dan both say in unison.    
  
That shuts Lovett up, and there’s silence for a few minutes. 

Dan refreshes his twitter feed. Checks his email. Checks his texts. Nothing from Tommy.    
  
He checks the time; they have nearly half an hour to go before it’s time for them to leave, and they allow themselves to get worried about Tommy’s absence. 

Jon puts his phone in his backpack and slaps his hands against his thighs. “Alright, I gotta use the bathroom,” he says, opening the car door. 

Dan frowns. “Uh, how are you going to get in?”    
  
“He has a key!” Jon calls.    
  
Dan turns and looks at Lovett, who shrugs. They both get out of the car and follow Jon to the front door.    
  
Jon moves a plant in a large pot by the door, revealing a key underneath. 

Not for the first time, Dan wonders how much Jon knows about Tommy that Dan doesn’t. Jon’s connection to Tommy is completely organic; they’ve been friends for years. Sometimes it seems like they’re bonded, the way they act with each other, completely in sync. But they don’t have any mental link; just affection and camaraderie.

Dan doesn’t know if he would describe what he has with Tommy as _ camaraderie.  _

Jon lets them into Tommy’s house and immediately heads to the bathroom; Lovett pokes his head into each room, as if Tommy’s playing a game of hide and seek with him.    
  
“He’s not here,” Dan says. He feels weird about being in Tommy’s house when Tommy’s not here. Maybe Jon and Tommy do this all the time, wait for each other in each other’s houses. Maybe that’s normal for them. It’s not normal for Dan.   
  
Lovett obviously doesn’t feel the same way; he flops down onto the couch. “I know, I’m just making sure.”    


Dan awkwardly hovers in the living room, unwilling to sit down. He takes out his phone; checks his email one more time. His brother has responded to his mom’s email, CC-ing him; he’s coming home for Christmas. Bringing the wife and kids too, of course. Dan will have to see all of them; without the benefit of distance, he won’t be able to avoid talking about - 

The door opens, and Tommy strides in.    
  
He’s drenched in sweat, his shirt soaked through. His hair is damp, sticking to his face, which is red from exertion. He seems to shift with every breath he takes; every muscle in his body is active, from his legs to his shoulders. But what shocks Dan the most is his eyes; even from several feet away, Dan can see that his pupils are blown wide, a thin ring of blue around black. He looks almost  _ high.  _

They stare at each other for a moment; then Jon walks back down the hallway to where they are. 

“Hey, where were you?” Jon prompts. 

Tommy’s still catching his breath. “Went for a run,” he says simply. 

“Run?” Jon replies. Dan feels a frown settle over his face. Of course he was out for a run.    
  
“Yeah, I can do that again.” Tommy grins wildly. He has a bright, brilliant smile that would be distracting if Dan weren’t so concerned. 

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Lovett says, standing up. “We were worried about you.” 

Tommy sort of looks at him funny, like he doesn’t understand why Lovett would be worried about him disappearing. “I…” He shrugs. “I left my phone at home.” He goes over to the living room; sitting on the coffee table is Tommy’s phone. 

He picks it up and clicks it open, seemingly unaware of how Jon, Lovett, and Dan are all staring at him.    
  
“Has Masterson started testifying yet?” Tommy asks.    
  
“About two hours ago, yeah,” Jon says. Dan’s glad he sounds a little disturbed by Tommy’s behavior, too. 

“I must’ve missed it while I was out,” Tommy says.    
  
“You were out running for  _ two hours?”  _ Lovett says incredulously.    
  
“Yeah, I wanted to clear my head.” Tommy smiles again, the edges of it too manic for Dan’s comfort.    
  
“I… Okay.” Jon blinks. 

“Listen, according to our schedule I have…” Tommy looks at his watch, “half an hour before you guys actually are supposed to show up, so I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed and then we’ll leave, okay?”    
  
“Alright,” Lovett says. He’s squinting a little, like when he’s not sure if one of his own jokes is funny. 

“You should take up running again, dude,” Tommy says to Jon, “it feels fucking awesome.” 

Dan’s intuition tells him this isn’t a normal runner’s high. Tommy moves past him to go to the bathroom and he can’t help but mutter, “You’re going to crash,” under his breath.    
  
Immediately there’s a sharp sting through the bond, one Dan has no choice but to ignore because Tommy has whirled around and is now looking him dead in the eye.    
  
“Excuse me?” He says. 

“I said,” Dan repeats, “that you’re going to crash. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”    
  
“By going for a run?” Tommy almost looks like he’s going to laugh at him. Dan doesn’t flinch or back away. 

“We both know that’s not the only way you’ve been burning the candle at both ends, Tommy.” Dan crosses his arms. “You’re acting like you’re superhuman because you’re able to go outside again, and I think if you keep going at this pace that you’ll hurt yourself.”    
  
Tommy stares at him, his expression twisted into something like perplexed fascination. “I’m bothering you,” he says carefully, after a moment. “I’ve pissed you off, by doing this.”    
  
Dan scoffs. “Great deductive reasoning, Tommy.”    
  
Tommy takes a step forward and Jon decides to cut in. “He just means he’s worried about you,” he says gently.    
  
Tommy actually has the nerve to shake his head in disbelief. “I don’t… I don’t see why you’d be worried about me.” 

“Are you kidding?” Dan thinks again about the brick wall in his mind; perhaps that comparison was more apt than he thought, because Tommy must be really fucking dense to not get it. “You don’t think it’s a little strange that not only do you suddenly like to disappear for hours with no warning, you’re acting like you’re training for the goddamn Olympics when you had a bullet in you not that long ago!”    
  
“Yeah, and I lived!” Tommy raises his voice, matching Dan’s volume. When he speaks, he moves his hands in a certain way that Dan recognizes in himself; wildly, Dan wonders where they both picked up that habit. “I got shot and I fucking lived, Dan, okay? I could have died on the floor of a fucking pizza place, but I didn’t, and - and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. “Don’t you think that’s something to celebrate?”    
  
Where once there had been roaring in Dan’s ears, there’s only tense silence. Jon and Lovett hold still, looking at Dan and Tommy like they’ll start yelling again at any provocation.    
  
Dan’s not going to yell. The brief glimpse of helplessness in Tommy’s eyes took all of the air from his lungs, leaving him only with a dull ache. When he speaks, his voice comes out low and even.    
  
“Of  _ course  _ I’m glad that you’re getting better, and that you can celebrate not being -  _ dead.”  _ He has to force the word out. “But I think if you don’t learn how to pace yourself, you’ll get exhausted. I’m speaking to you as someone who knows,  _ and,”  _ he adds before Tommy can respond, “I’m speaking to you as your friend.”    
  
Something strange happens. The corners of Tommy’s lips turn up in a smirk; his shoulders roll back, his posture shifting so he’s standing at his full height, just a little taller than Dan. His eyes flash with sudden confidence, as though he’s reached an understanding, though Dan doesn’t think he’s been listening to a word Dan’s said. The air seems to shift around him, accommodating his change in attitude. They’re not mirrors of each other, anymore, like they were just seconds ago. Now, Tommy looks…  _ comfortable,  _ at ease with his surroundings, while Dan searches Tommy’s face for something familiar. 

He meets Tommy’s eyes, hoping for watercolor blue, but instead catches a motion that throws him completely off his axis.    
  
Tommy’s eyes seem to drag slowly down Dan’s body, starting from his face and moving down, over his shoulders, framing his chest and waist, moving down his legs and stopping at his feet. Dan can feel Tommy’s eyes on him like it’s a touch, running over his skin. An X-ray couldn’t be more thorough. 

The journey back up is no less petrifying; in between fractions of an instant Dan sees Tommy’s gaze slide over details on Dan’s person - the extra notch he punched into his belt, the tan line on his wrist where his broken watch used to sit, the slightly faded color of the collar of his shirt - before he finally comes back up and meets Dan’s eyes.    
  
He hasn’t actually done anything, really - the entire act happens in seconds. But with a simple once-over Tommy has made Dan feel as if someone cut him open and examined his heart, holding it in their hands. 

A bead of sweat drips down Tommy’s neck and Dan follows the motion with his eyes, just to have something to focus on. When he looks back up, there’s the thin ring of watercolor blue he was looking for, but it doesn’t give him any insight into what is happening.

Dan doesn’t know what’s going on. He feels hot all over, his muscles tensing up like he’s preparing for a fight. Frantically, he searches the bond between them, looking for any hint of what Tommy’s thinking, even if it’s only a surface emotion. But there’s no sign of Tommy in the house in Dan’s mind - Tommy’s block is strong enough that Dan feels like a stranger in their own bond, let into a house when the owner isn’t home.

“Is that what you are, Dan?” Tommy says. His voice has a strange edge to it; it almost sounds like he’s taunting him. “My  _ friend? _ ” 

Dan flinches a little, completely blindsided by the words. “Of - of course I’m your friend,” he replies, hyper-aware of the hurt he can hear in his tone. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”    


Dan and Tommy may have had to repair cracks in their friendship during the last few months, may have had to add  _ bondmates  _ to the list of how they relate to each other, but not once has Tommy suggested that they weren't friends to begin with. Tommy said himself not too long ago that he likes how they handle the bond; Dan knows he has no desire to change their routine. Why would he say something like that? 

Lovett has confusion written on his face, too, which is good, because that means Dan isn’t the only one who can’t fucking tell what Tommy’s playing at. 

Of course, Lovett’s not the only one watching. “Tommy,” Jon warns from where he’s standing behind Dan. “Don’t be a dick.” 

“Jon, you don’t...” Tommy starts to speak, but then Jon must tell him something via one of their  _ looks,  _ one of the nonverbal conversations they’re always having, and he trails off. Suddenly, like he’s collecting himself, Tommy shrinks a little, loses the strange knowing gleam in his eye, and steps back from where he was standing, far into Dan’s personal space, inches away from him. Dan doesn’t remember him getting so close.    
  
“You’re my friend,” Tommy says. His tone is unreadable; Dan looks back at Jon but it doesn’t seem like Jon is forcing him to say that, so what the fuck is happening?    
  
“Of course I am,” Dan responds automatically, “no matter what, okay?”    
  
Tommy nods. He looks like he wants to say something, but for the life of him Dan can’t tell what. He certainly doesn’t look happy. “I’m going to go shower, I’ll be out soon, okay?”    
  
“Okay,” Jon says. His voice is soft, gentle. Dan catches the look they share before Tommy goes, and while Tommy’s expression towards Dan was so hard to decipher a fucking cryptographer wouldn’t be able to to figure it out, his expression towards Jon shows a flurry of emotions. Tenderness, pain, sympathy, affection. When Tommy turns to go to the bathroom, Jon turns away too, their movements perfectly synchronized. 

Jon sort of shrugs at him as if to say  _ you know how he is,  _ and Dan is hopelessly, helplessly jealous, because no, he doesn’t fucking know how Tommy is, that’s the whole  _ problem,  _ Dan has a link to Tommy’s head and he can’t even tell what the man’s thinking when he’s right in front of him, and Tommy has never once shown  _ him  _ the key under the plant by his front door, never mind had a weird nonverbal conversation with him, and Dan knows that if Tommy and Jon  _ wanted  _ to be bondmates they would’ve done it on the campaign in Iowa ten years ago, so where the fuck does that leave Dan?    
  
Dan doesn’t want his role as Tommy’s friend to be outweighed by his role as Tommy’s bondmate. But right now it feels like the two can’t coexist, and Tommy was testing the limits of them just now.    
  
Or maybe he wasn’t, and Dan is completely wrong. He just doesn’t know. 

His phone buzzes on the counter; it’s a text from his brother. He swipes his phone open and types out a reply, one that heavily implies he’s not able to talk right now.    
  
“I’m going to go… wait in the car,” Dan says. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” Jon agrees, and the tiny voice in Dan’s head says  _ they’re going to talk about you while you’re in the car.  _

Dan imagines the voice is a fly and he’s swatting it with a newspaper. 

Lovett starts to say, “I’ll stay here,” but he only gets as far as  _ I’ll stay  _ before Jon gives him an extremely pointed look that Dan would have to be blind to miss. “I’ll go wait with Dan,” Lovett offers.    
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter.”    
  
Lovett opens the front door and steps out into the sunshine; Dan closes it behind him. “Good,” Lovett says, “I don’t have any juice boxes.”    
  
They file back into the car, Lovett in the front seat, Dan in the back.    
  
“You realize he’s going to sit next to you, right?”    
  
Dan closes his eyes and groans, leaning back against the headrest. “Can we switch back?”    
  
Lovett gives him a sugary sweet smile. “After all the shit you gave me for worrying? Absolutely not.” He tilts his head, thoughtful. “I mean, you could see this as a good thing. The back seat is a place where many a sibling pair have resolved issues. A place where young lovers may reunite after an argument - though I wouldn’t know anything about that, of course.”   
  
Dan opens his eyes so he can barely see Lovett through his eyelashes. “Neither of those situations are applicable, here.”    
  
Lovett considers this. “Okay, well… I’ll sit with you on the plane ride?”    
  
Dan hadn’t even considered the plane ride. Ugh, a five hour plane ride with Tommy brushing him off the whole time…    
  
“Deal.” 

Lovett turns around and leans back in his seat, taking his phone out to scroll through twitter once again. “Look on the bright side, Dan.”    
  
Dan cannot possibly see what the bright side is. “Enlighten me.”    
  
“We’re not going to be late!”

\---

For once, Dan isn’t the one in this bond who’s having trouble keeping up the block. This time, the one who’s struggling to keep things to himself is Tommy.    
  
Dan mulls over this information as he pulls up to the office, looking out the windshield past the shower of rain currently pouring down on his car. He debates opening his car’s trunk to get the umbrella, but ultimately decides just to make a run for it.    
  
“Hey, is it raining out?” Tommy blurts out when Dan gets into the office. Dan raises an eyebrow at him and looks behind Tommy’s shoulder at the enormous windows, framing the downpour outside.    
  
“Obviously.”    
  
“Oh.” Tommy turns and looks. “Right.”    


Immediately Dan feels a hollow, empty emotion seep through the bond and the word  _ dummy  _ appear in his mind’s eye, shrouded by fog.    
  
Tommy hasn’t been sleeping well, lately. Dan knows this because he’s been feeling the effects of it, through the bond. He also knows it because he’s heard Tommy talking about it with Jon and Lovett, messages of concern slipping through casual conversations. Tommy hasn’t brought it up with Dan; Dan can’t pin down the reason why. Is it because Tommy’s naturally closer with Jon and Lovett, having lived with them for years before Dan moved to Los Angeles? Or is it because Tommy’s still giving him the cold shoulder, nearly two weeks after their not-fight in his living room? 

Tommy had said they were cool, when Dan had asked about it on Sunday. But he hadn’t talked much, as they sat out in the backyard, watching Lucca run around chasing a butterfly. He hadn’t offered any explanation for his earlier outburst, but he did say that he’d try to stop “freaking you guys out so much,” which is comforting. True to his word, he texts people when he’s planning on going out by himself for hours and hours at a time, and he doesn’t spend every spare moment at the gym or on a run.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s done pushing himself harder than he should. Nowadays he frustrates Dan in another way - by staying up all hours of the night and not getting nearly enough sleep.    
  
Dan has never claimed to be a beacon of perfect health - his own brush with exhaustion has taken him out of the running for that position - but he knows that it’s important to get at least…  _ some  _ sleep. A reasonable amount of sleep. Enough sleep that your bondmate doesn’t have to think about how much sleep you’re getting.    
  
Things are falling through the cracks in the bond. Tommy’s always been good at holding up his end of the block, but lately there’s been a strange hollowness in the back of Dan’s mind, a sense of discomfort he can’t seem to shake no matter what. It took him a couple of days to realize that the nagging tiredness in his head didn’t actually belong to him. That didn’t bother Dan much initially, but then Tommy started to feel anxious and paranoid, and words started coming in through the bond, slow and sluggish like they were moving through molasses.    
  
_ Did you remember to feed Lucca? Yes.  _

Dan looks over at Tommy’s back as it disappears into the kitchen, where he’s presumably going to get another cup of coffee. Jon walks out past him and Dan observes a look between them - he can’t tell what information is being exchanged but he can feel Tommy’s anxiety rise, which in turn makes himself feel anxious. 

He sits down at his computer and tries to focus on his work for the day. His life can’t revolve around Tommy, even if Tommy’s actions are frustrating and maddening and require a degree in psychology to fully understand. There are simply not enough hours in a day, and too much prep work for the pod that Dan needs to do.

The morning goes quickly; Dan works a little on the outline for the Thursday pod, writes part of an article for the website, and watches some of a Judiciary committee hearing. He tries to keep his productivity at a maximum, but it’s difficult when stray words and phrases are crossing into the back of his mind. He’s not actively listening in on Tommy, but - it’s difficult to choose  _ not _ to hear something, especially if the voice is inside your own head. 

_ God… Trump sucks... _   
  
Dan focuses on the bond and tries to test how quiet his side is, how thick the walls are in his house. He doesn’t want Tommy to know he’s thinking about him. He also feels bad about hearing anything from Tommy’s side - he knows how much Tommy values his privacy.   
  
Tommy probably hasn’t noticed. He’s been staring blankly at his computer monitor for the last ten minutes without scrolling or clicking on anything.    
  
“Tommy?” Dan asks.    
  
Tommy looks up, and Dan observes the dark circles under his eyes. “Yeah?”    
  
“You okay?”    
  
Tommy frowns a little. “‘M fine.”    
  
Dan resists the urge to roll his eyes. Can’t Tommy give him something to work with, here? An inkling of what’s keeping him up at night?

His phone pings. It’s a text from Tommy. Maybe…?

_ Could we cancel our thing this Sunday? I don’t think I can do that right now. _ _   
_

Dan swallows a little growl in the back of his throat. Seriously? Fucking seriously? 

_ I’ll have to think about it. Is something wrong?  _ This is where Tommy will tell Dan that he’s having trouble sleeping, because he’s spending too much time on his phone or having nightmares or watching netflix or whatever. Tommy will tell Dan that, and Dan will point out that he’s been right about Tommy pushing himself too hard, and they can both move on.    
  
_ Yeah, everything’s fine, just personal stuff. _

… Or Tommy could refuse to elaborate, and continue to keep Dan in the dark, thus making the entire situation more difficult for both of them.    
  
_ I guess we can if that’s what you want.  _ Dan realizes that sounds bitchy and passive-aggressive even as he’s texting it, but he can’t bring himself to care. Even as he puts his phone away he has to stifle a yawn because Tommy’s so fucking tired it’s bleeding over into Dan.    
  
“Hey.” Ben comes over and waves his hand in front of Tommy’s face. “Time to record.”

Tommy looks up at him blankly for a moment before responding. “Right.” He grabs his laptop and heads to the recording studio. 

Dan does not envy Ben at the moment. Sleep-deprived Tommy is a less than ideal podcast co-host. 

He goes back to checking his email and manages to ignore the sluggishness coming from the bond for a whole half hour. But after that, he finds his mind drifting, and snippets of words come through the bond again, flashing in front of his eyes, as neatly as if they were stamped out by a typewriter. 

_ Lunchtime _

_ Emily asked me if... _

_ Do I need to do laundry?  _

_ Why would the CIA confirm - _

_ The resistance is… _

_ Haven’t spoken to him since -  _

_ Should talk to Jon about that.  _

It’s starting to get annoying. Dan can’t tell what Tommy’s actually thinking, he just gets bits and pieces of it. He doesn’t want to snoop further, but he also doesn’t want to piss Tommy off more by telling him that his shitty sleep schedule is fucking with their bond.    
  
Dan bites the inside of his cheek and looks up at Lovett, watching him bob his head to whatever song is in his headphones. Lovett looks up and sees that Dan’s looking at him; he takes his headphones out.    
  
“What’s up?” he asks.    
  
Dan glances around; the office is relatively packed, but as usual no one seems to care what he and Lovett are talking about (it usually takes about a week for new interns to realize that the Crooked hosts, with the exception of Louis, are terrible sources of gossip). “Can I talk to you for a sec about something?”    
  
“Uh, sure.” Lovett goes over to Dan’s desk and pulls Tommy’s chair away from his desk so he can sit.    
  
“You’re - you’re bonded.”    
  
Lovett grins. “Trouble in paradise, Dan?”    
  
Dan glares at him. Dan and Tommy’s bond has never been paradise, that’s for sure. “I’m serious.”    
  
Lovett straightens up and clears his throat. “Yes, you’re right. Okay. I’m bonded. What do you need to know?”    
  
“Why…” Dan sighs. “Lovett, why did you bond with Ronan?”    
  
The corners of Lovett’s lips quirk back up. “He didn’t get shot in a pizza place, Dan, so I’m afraid it’s not a very interesting story.”    
  
“Tell me anyway,” Dan insists. “You didn’t get married, but you bonded. Why?”    
  
Lovett looks down and away, mulling over the question. “Well… marriage didn’t really seem like what we wanted at the time, and… once we were bonded, it didn’t really seem necessary. As for why we bonded in the first place…” Lovett shrugs and plays with a pencil on Dan’s desk. “When you’re in a long distance relationship, you don’t get the whole…  _ hi honey, i’m home  _ sort of thing. You can try, but sometimes it’s not enough.”    
  
“And Ronan… wanted that?”    
  
Lovett smiles wryly. “Who said it was Ronan?”    
  
Dan feels his face warm up. “Sorry. Just - hard to imagine you as the domestic type.”    
  
“I’d make a great homemaker and house-husband, for the record. But I hear you. And while that was my initial reason for wanting it, the more I thought about it, the more I thought - well, I want to keep him safe, and if this allows me to do that, then…” he trails off. 

Dan wants to ask Lovett to elaborate, but Lovett’s revealed something pretty personal, and probably doesn’t want to say more about it. So he moves on.    
  
“Does it ever bother you? Having someone in your head all the time? Because, with Tommy, it’s like…” he gestures to his head. “It’s maddening.”    


“I thought you two were blocking each other out,” Lovett comments.    
  
“We are, usually, and he’s able to keep me walled off most of the time, but lately, because of his…”    
  
“Terrible sleep schedule?”    
  
Dan nods. “Things are coming through. Not, like, big stuff, but. You know.”    
  
“Hey, if it’s something you think Tommy should be concerned about -” 

“It’s not like that.” Dan shakes his head. “I just… doesn’t it ever get annoying? To have someone else in your head?”    
  
Lovett smiles, all dimples. “Of course it does. But doesn’t everybody get annoyed at their partner every once in a while? You work it out with them. And controlling the bond… it becomes easier to manage the more you have it. It’s like knowing someone’s -” Lovett cuts himself off. “You know what? Never mind, I’m not going to have that conversation with you.”    
  
Dan raises his eyebrows. “Conversation about what?”    
  
Lovett sighs. “Well, Dan, when a man and another man love each other very much…”    
  
“Alright! Alright.” Dan holds his hands up. “Forget I asked.”    
  
Lovett twirls the pencil in his hand between his fingertips and sticks it behind his ear. “Is there anything else you need from your resident gay bond expert? I’m not responsible for any failed relationships that result from my advice, by the way. That’s the part about being the gay best friend I don’t subscribe to.” 

“I’m almost done, I promise.” Dan leans back in his chair. “How - how do you put up with it? When it gets overwhelming?” 

“Honestly?” Lovett gives Dan a look that’s a cross between sympathy and condescension. “Love, Dan. I get through it ‘cause I love him.” 

Dan scoffs a little. “Well, that’s not going to help me very much.” 

Lovett shrugs. “You’d be surprised. But for the record,” he leans in, “if something Tommy’s doing is really bothering you, you can always work it out by, you know,  _ talking to him?”  _

Dan crosses his arms, reluctant. “Why should  _ I _ have to be the one to talk to  _ him?  _ He’s the one with the shitty sleep schedule. Not to mention he’s been avoiding me for the past two weeks.”    
  
Lovett shrugs. “Sometimes you have to be the bigger man, Dan. I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to, but I imagine being passive-aggressive in your own head isn’t very easy.” He stands up.

Dan watches him go and looks back down at his keyboard. He can still feel Tommy’s thoughts, hidden by a fog of fatigue, floating around the bond. 

When Tommy comes out from doing the podcast Dan gestures for them to meet in the kitchen.    
  
“Listen, um…” Dan takes a deep breath. “About the bond…” 

“Is everything okay?” Tommy frowns. “Because like I said before, we’re cool.”    
  
“No, I - your side of the bond is slipping. Just a little.”    
  
“Oh.” Tommy’s face goes a little red. Dan can see his grip tighten on the countertop he’s leaning against. “Have you been hearing -”    
  
“Words, occasionally. Nothing I can gain any meaning from. But it’s slipping.” Dan tilts his head. “I think it’s because you’re not getting any sleep, and you’re tired. I wouldn’t care, except I know you  _ do,  _ and also, I can feel your fatigue and it’s making me tired too.”

Tommy looks like a kid who’s been scolded for not doing his homework. “I haven’t… been getting much sleep lately.”    
  
“I know that.” Dan tries to make his voice gentler. “And while I don’t care what you’re doing at two in the morning, if you’re not asleep, you’re making both of us tired, and that affects how we work. It also affects how we interact with each other. Do you really want to cancel Sunday?” Dan really hopes he hasn’t aggravated Tommy even further.    
  
But Tommy just nods. “No, you’re… you’re right. I - I just - I get caught up doing something, going on twitter, or whatever, and I lose track of time.”    
  
“Well… do you need me to text you, to tell you to go to bed?” Dan asks.   
  
Tommy grins at him. “What, are you gonna tuck me in, too?”    
  
Dan doesn’t laugh. “I’m serious.”    
  
Dan’s tone seems to force Tommy to consider it. “I guess… that might be cool.”    
  
“Cool. And,” Dan offers a smile of his own, “you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”    
  
“Yeah,” Tommy nods, “I know.”    
  
That night, Dan looks at the clock, and when it strikes 10:30, he texts Tommy.    
  
_ Put the phone away, time 4 bed.  _ _   
_ _   
_ He gets a text back almost immediately.

_ Anyone ever tell you you’re a mother hen? Gnight.  _ The message is followed by six sleeping face emojis.    
  
Dan smiles down at his phone before turning it off and plugging it in on his nightstand. The bond he has with Tommy may be endlessly frustrating, but he can’t deny that the warm, pleasant feeling in the back of his mind helps him drift off to sleep. 


	6. On Activism, and Swimming Shirtless

It seems Dan’s hopes for a quiet Saturday night at home were not meant to be.    
  
“It’ll be fun, Dan, and you’ll meet all these cool people!” Natasha’s voice is a bit weak and squeaky from her cold, but Dan can still hear her trademark enthusiasm through the phone.    
  
He sighs and looks longingly at where he had set up his beer and bowl of tortilla chips on the coffee table by the couch. He's been outside & out & about plenty today and was looking forward to recharging. There were errands, including grocery shopping and picking up medication at the pharmacy; then there was therapy with Dr. Mueller, who seemed very relieved that Dan had run out of jokes to tell about her last name. Then picking up his dry cleaning, and after that Dan went to Tommy’s for his hour with him.    
  
(Tommy hadn’t specified why he needed to reschedule their hour to Saturday instead of Sunday beyond saying that he had a date Saturday night. For the sake of his own sanity, Dan hasn’t thought about it further.)

That part was actually kind of nice; Tommy didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking, so they just sat in the backyard with Lucca running around them, Dan’s mind relaxed without the stress of blocking the bond. It felt good to just be in Tommy’s company without having to talk; Dan has missed being around people with whom he can enjoy companionable silence.    
  
After that, Dan had met at a coffeeshop with a client for whom he was doing a bit of communications consulting; then he had gone home, fully prepared to do absolutely nothing productive for the rest of the evening.    
  
Then Natasha, an old friend from college to whom he still owed a favor, called, saying she was very sick and needed his help.   
  
“I’m not really the panel moderating type, Tasha,” Dan sits down on the couch, “this doesn’t really seem like something I’d do.” 

“Sure it does!” Natasha argues. “It’s about social media and journalism in the age of Trump, it’s  _ exactly  _ something you’d do!”    
  
“If that’s what people think of when they think of me, I need to rebrand myself,” Dan mutters, half to himself. “How long is this thing, again?”    
  
“An hour and a half. You moderate the discussion - you don’t even have to speak! You can just let them talk. And they’ll talk plenty - there’ll be that one woman from Fox News, there. She’ll probably get into it with the others, that’ll take up at least half an hour.”    
  
“This sounds like something that should be moderated by a journalist,” Dan points out. “Which is what you are, and I am not.”    
  
“You help run a global media empire!”    
  
Dan scoffs. “It’s hardly global, or an empire. You’ve been listening to too much of Lovett’s show.”    
  
“My point is, you can rein in your liberal tendencies for an hour while a bunch of reporters talk about Twitter,” Natasha asserts. Then her voice gets softer, more pleading. “Please, Dan? Pretty please?”   
  
“I’m not sure it matters how pretty the ‘please’ is -”    
  
“Dan! I am sick! And you owe me one for that time in Virginia, when you -”    
  
“Alright, alright.” Dan does not want to relive That Time in Virginia tonight. “I’ll do it. But if it’s a spectacular failure, it’s not my fault.”    
  
“You’re the best, Dan,” Natasha says; then she immediately hangs up. (The women in Dan’s life never say goodbye before hanging up, it seems.)   
  
Clad in his most neutral button down, jeans and jacket, Dan tries to pump himself up in the car on the way over to the theatre. A panel discussion about journalism and social media in the age of Trump does sound right up his alley, but Dan doesn’t know if he can bite his tongue long enough not to piss off a Fox News reporter. This event requires Dan to find energy in the hidden spaces of his brain; for that, he employs the best hip-hop in his music library.    
  
_ You be takin' all of this, pleasure come from punishment/Your threshold astonishin', I think I'm in love again… _

Dan tries his best to transfer the confidence Killer Mike has talking about his sexual prowess to the next hour and a half he’s going to have to spend on stage - an objectively ridiculous exercise that keeps his mind occupied as he gets to the venue and explains to the staff why Natasha isn’t there.    
  
The discussion goes… fine. It’s not as nuanced as other interviews Dan’s moderated, but that can partially be blamed on the panel, which is composed of various reporters across the political spectrum. They talk a bit about accessibility, and the death of print journalism, as well as the spread of misinformation and “fake news.” Thankfully, Dan doesn’t need to jump to the defense of the free press, because there are four other people onstage eager to do so. Towards the end of the evening, Dan thinks that he may get out of this event unscathed after all.    
  
And then the reporter from Fox News has to say something that Dan just can’t ignore.    
  
“It really is absolutely ridiculous,” she says, “that both sides have weaponized the idea of fake news. The other day I tweeted a study, that said people with severed bonds are four times as likely to have severe difficulty forming a bond with a new partner as people who had not been bonded previously - you would not believe the response I got, with everyone saying that it was ‘fake news’ and that I was fake.”    
  
“I’m sorry,” Dan leans forward, “I’m really sorry, but I have to argue with you on that point.”    
  
The whole panel, as well as the entire audience, turns towards him.    
  
“Yes?” The Fox News reporter raises an eyebrow condescendingly.    
  
“I saw that study, and the stat about those with severed bonds came from a sample size of fewer than forty people - hardly representative of the entire country, or the world, for that matter. It’s also worth noting that nearly every participant in the  _ other  _ study from that organization - with a much, much larger sample size - had seriously considered severing their bond at some point. I’m bonded - that number came as a shock to me, precisely because it reveals how common it is for people to consider severance. So when you spread information that implies those with severed bonds are damaged, and that bond severance is this strange, alien thing that shouldn’t be discussed -” Dan gestures out into the audience, “you’re spreading a narrative that doesn’t match the evidence. Maybe that’s not fake news, but it certainly isn’t the truth, and I’m not surprised that people are coming after you for it.”    
  
Dan leans back in his chair, a little sheepish. There’s a surprisingly robust round of applause at his comment; apparently passion had crept into his voice. He hurriedly tries to switch the subject back to the topic of the discussion.    
  
Afterwards, when he’s avoiding the Fox News reporter’s glare by greeting a few stray Friends of the Pod in the audience, he sees a familiar face approach him.    
  
“Susan Fox,” he says with a smile. He waves awkwardly, unsure of whether or not to hug her. She waves back, somehow making the motion look natural instead of weird.    
  
“That’s me.” She's wearing a pretty dress with tiny pastel fish printed on it. “I came here to support a friend, but… it seems I may have found an opportunity, too.”    
  
Dan raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”    
  
“You were pretty passionate about bond severance, up there. I could tell that you knew what you were talking about.”    
  
Dan shrugs. “I mean, anyone can get fired up about bondmates’ rights.”    
  
“No, they really can’t.” Susan’s still smiling like she knows something Dan doesn’t. “Listen, my team is holding a workshop next month focused on organizing and advocacy for bonding rights on a federal level. I think it’d be really cool if you spoke there, said some of the same stuff you said here - maybe some stuff about how to spread our message to voters and legislators.” She rummages through her purse, takes out a business card. Dan is momentarily charmed at how old-fashioned she is; he hasn’t seen a business card in ages.

“I… can consider doing that, yeah.” Dan can’t help his smile. 

“I think we could work really well together,” Susan says. Something about her fire-red hair makes her appear mischievous in her energy; she makes Dan feel like he’s being let in on a secret.    
  
Dan decides to take a chance. “If… I want to call you for… non-work related reasons?” He hopes he doesn’t come off as a presumptuous ass.    
  
Susan looks a little suspicious. “I don’t know how your bondmate would feel about that.” 

Dan almost laughs. “Considering he’s on a date right now? I don’t think he’d mind all that much.” As soon as he says the words he realizes how they might be misinterpreted, but then Susan’s smiling in relief and he pushes the thought out of his head.    
  
“Then… you can use that number for non-work related reasons, too.”    
  
Yes! 

“I’ll do that, then.” Dan knows he probably looks like a goofball, a big dumb smile on his face. He doesn’t care. 

They shyly smile at each other for a moment; then someone calls Susan’s name.   
  
“I’d better go - that’s my friend. See you around, Dan,” Susan says with a wave. She begins to walk away.    
  
It takes a second for Dan to realize that he’s just agreed to something completely out of his element. “Susan!” he calls. “What did I just get myself into?”    
  
Susan turns around and laughs, calling back, “Congratulations! You’re a bonding rights activist now!”   
  
Dan sails out of the venue with a spring in his step. As he’s walking towards his car, his phone chimes.    
  
“How was the panel?” Natasha asks. Dan grins. He feels like he's floating.    
  
“Fantastic,” he replies. “I pissed off a Fox News person with facts.”    
  
“Ugh,” Natasha says, “of course you did. Anything else happen that was interesting?”    
  
“I got a date,” Dan responds, “with a woman who thinks I’m a bisexual activist in an open relationship.”    
  
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Dan decides that he’s in way too good of a mood to explain himself.    
  


He cuts off Natasha’s “What the fu-” with a cheerful “Talk to you later, Tasha!” and hangs up the phone.    
  
Once in the car, Dan plugs his phone in and turns the volume up high; the particularly explicit lyrics of Gangsta Boo keep up his good mood all the way home. 

_ He want this clit in his mouth all day/He want this clit in his mouth all day/I put my clit in his mouth all day/I've got this I've got this fool in love again, love again… _

_ \--- _

Nobody is getting any work done.    
  
It’s an unseasonably beautiful day, even for November in Los Angeles. The sky is a bright, crisp blue. The sun is shining, giving a golden finish to the leaves on the trees and the grass on the ground. Birds are singing. There’s a soft breeze that brushed over Dan’s skin as he walked into the office that morning.    
  
It’s been several hours since he’s been outside, but he’s itching to escape the confines of the office. From what he can tell, he’s not the only one. Everyone is sneaking glances outside at the sunny, beautiful day around them. Apparently tomorrow is going to be equally beautiful, clear skies with a high of 79 degrees. Maybe Dan should take the day off. What's the point of actually living in LA - after all that - if he doesn't make the best of the amazing weather?

Tommy, Lovett and Jon are in the recording studio, having wrapped up the livestream nearly half an hour ago. Sometimes they get caught up in talking to each other, usually in hushed tones that say  _ this is a discussion for founders of Crooked Media.  _ Sometimes Dan feels a little bit left out, when that happens; but today he’s just anxious to get his work done so he can go home and take a nap in the backyard.    
  
“Elijah,” Priyanka says. Dan turns in his chair to see Priyanka lying back in her seat, pulling a rubber band back and aiming it at Elijah’s face.    
  
“If you fire that at me, I will -” Elijah begins, before Priyanka cuts him off by firing the rubber band at him.    
  
Dan thinks that could sum up the afternoon as a whole. Nobody wants to be productive today.

Dan is almost done finishing the first half of an op-ed on election security and has been staring at the outline for Thursday’s podcast for ten minutes when Tommy, Jon and Lovett finally emerge.    
  
“Listen up!” Jon says, knocking his knuckles on the desk. “Public service announcement!”    
  
Everyone pauses their procrastination to look at him.    
  
“Tomorrow… we are going to the beach,” Jon declares. “All of us. Office is closed tomorrow - we’re gonna grab a van and go to the beach.” 

Priyanka and Elijah cheer. Tanya sits up in her chair.    
  
“Why?” She asks.    
  
“Uh… team building exercise,” Tommy replies.    
  
Tanya narrows her eyes. “You want to go to the beach on a Tuesday?”    
  
Tommy nods. “We want to go to the beach on a Tuesday.”    


Lovett passes by Dan’s desk. “The Earth is dying, that’s the reason it’s so nice outside.”    
  
Jon rolls his eyes, sitting back down at his own desk. “Lovett’s just mad that we opted not to go to Disneyland.”    
  
“That is not what I suggested, if you go back and check, I suggested we -”    
  
“Go back and check, who is listening in on our conversations that I don’t know about?” Jon laughs. The two of them begin to descend into banter.    
  
Dan looks at Tommy for guidance.    
  
“I’ll send details in the Slack,” he says, quirking his lips up in an amused smile. He’s been on a streak in terms of his good mood, it seems. Dan’s glad; the Tommy he saw during their hour on Saturday was much calmer than he was weeks or months ago. It’s a part of Tommy that he’d missed without realizing it - his constant sense of calm.

It’ll be good to go to the beach. Dan has a multitude of swimsuits he stocked up on when he first moved to Los Angeles that he’s never actually gotten around to wearing. He’ll have to bring his phone or tablet, at least, so he can answer email, but it’s still going to be nice to relax outside in the sunshine, in front of the waves.    
  
The second half of the op-ed gets written much more quickly than the first; Dan decides to step away from it for a few minutes and stretch his legs, walking around the office and getting water from the kitchen. He waves hi to the people around him as he goes, occasionally saying a word or two to check up on whatever project they’re doing. Travis tosses him a baseball and he tosses it back; Priyanka fires a rubber band at him. 

There’s an intern, Tyler, who’s sitting on the couch by the conference room. When Dan passes by, he sees that Tyler’s screen shows a page on Amazon.    
  
“Working hard or hardly working, Ty?” Dan teases. Along with having an after-school-special-style instinct to connect with and protect one of the few trans staffers at Crooked, Dan likes to think he’s fashioned himself a genuine friendship with Tyler. Getting stuck on a plane waiting on the tarmac for four hours will do that to you. (Dan must have talked Tyler’s ear off.)    
  
Tyler’s eyes go wide behind his glasses; he slams his laptop shut.    
  
“Hey, don’t worry.” Dan waves his hand. “No one’s getting any work done, I’m not policing you.”    
  
Tyler nods. His face is red; he reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.    
  
“Everything okay?” Dan tilts his head.    
  
“Yeah, uh.” Tyler looks down and away. “We’re going to the beach tomorrow.”    
  
“Yeah,” Dan replies, “are you not a fan of the beach?”    
  
“No, I am, I just - I… don’t have a swimsuit.” Tyler looks about as red as a tomato. Matched with his blue  _ I’m with Her!  _ T-shirt and his wispy hair, bleached blond, he could make an American flag all by himself. “I… It’s not like I don’t go to the beach - I do  _ own  _ swimsuits, they’re just… I don’t really wear bikinis anymore, you know? And like, you only really think of these things when the topic comes up, and, uh… yeah.” 

“No, I get that.” Dan can’t say he’s been in a similar situation, but he understands. “So you were…”    
  
“I thought I could buy one in a hurry.” Tyler laughs a bit nervously. 

“I mean, don’t do that.” Dan shrugs. “I could lend you one. I have tons.”    
  
Tyler’s eyebrows crawl into his hair. “Really?”    
  
“Sure.” Dan frowns. “Is that weird?”    
  
“I don’t - I don’t think so.” Tyler’s face breaks out into a smile. “I’d appreciate that.”    
  
“I’ll bring a couple in, we can find one that fits.” Dan imagines they’ll have to be creative with the drawstring - Tyler is skinny as a rail - but they can make it work. “That sound good?”    
  
“Great.” Tyler runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to… go back to work now.”    
  
“You do that.” Dan grins as he walks away. Tyler is unashamedly awkward; Dan can appreciate that.    
  
The next day they all meet up in the parking lot of the Crooked offices, where Jon and Tommy are proudly presenting the two vans they’ve rented, both of which could work as stand-ins for the Mystery Machine. 

Tyler’s waiting by the curb, his hands in his pockets. Dan rummages around in his backpack and pulls out two pairs of swim trunks.    
  
“Blue or red?” He asks. Tyler points to the blue one and he tosses it over.    
  
“What’s that about?” Travis asks, looking over. Dan turns and sees that Tyler has run off inside to get changed.    
  
“Don’t worry about it.”    
  
Just as everyone had predicted, it is indeed a beautiful day outside. Jon and Tommy drive them to a fairly secluded area at the beach, where Lovett and Travis go about setting up camp, arranging umbrellas and untangling lawn chairs. The dogs run around in the sand, barking at stray birds and generally causing mischief.   
  
Dan sets his backpack down and walks out past where the sand is dry, until the waves are reaching towards his toes. The sun warms his skin, while the breeze keeps him refreshed.    
  
“Really beautiful, don’t you think?” Dan hears. He turns, his hands in his pockets. Tommy’s right beside him.    
  
“Absolutely gorgeous,” he agrees. 

“Are you going in the water?” Tommy asks. Dan shrugs.    
  
“Maybe later. I kind of want to take a nap, first.” 

Tommy nods at that; he’s learned over several Sundays how fond Dan is of naps.    
  
“Are you going to go in the water?” Dan asks. “I’m sure Lucca wants to play.”    
  
“I’ll probably play with her where it’s shallow,” Tommy says, “but as for going out further and really swimming…” he trails off. Dan can see the light illuminating his eyelashes when he looks down and away.    
  
“Everything okay?” Tommy had not too long ago held onto exercise as though it were a lifeline. 

“Yeah, I just…” Tommy mirrors Dan, puts his hands in his pockets. “Would it be weird if I didn’t take my shirt off?” 

Dan raises his eyebrows. “I mean, no. I don’t think it would be weird, because I don’t think anyone would care.” Dan can say for certain that Lovett’s not going to take his shirt off today; he can also imagine that there are several other staffers that wouldn’t feel comfortable doing so, even at the beach. “But… I’ve never known you to care one way or another.” 

Dan doesn’t live under a rock. He  _ has  _ Instagram, even if he barely uses it. Not to mention he’s fully aware of certain incidents involving cups and their being flipped. Tommy has never seemed shy or embarrassed about his body - what’s up? 

“You’re right, normally I’d - you know. But…” Tommy takes a deep breath of the salty sea breeze. “I’ve - I’ve got this scar, now, and…” 

Oh. Dan didn’t even think about that. Sometimes the emotional trauma Tommy went through as part of the shooting is so clear, Dan forgets that he went through physical trauma as well. 

He faces Tommy, the waves to his left. “If you want my opinion, dude? You’re… plenty good looking enough in that area that it won’t matter. It won’t matter either way, but it really won’t matter with you.” 

Dan isn’t laying it on thick; he’s just telling the truth. 

Tommy glows at the compliment. They both look back out towards the waves. 

“Thank you,” Tommy says. Water crashes onto the shore and moves over their ankles. 

“No problem. And, there’s no problem with leaving your shirt on - God knows I have enough body issues to keep mine on.” 

Tommy laughs, a surprised, light sound. “What? But you -“ he turns away, as if amused by something in his own head. When he turns back, there’s a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll take my shirt off if you take yours off.” 

Well. Dan isn’t going to back down from a challenge. In one smooth movement, he slips off his t-shirt. 

Tommy immediately gives him a once-over, which Dan expected. But it doesn’t feel… judgmental. It’s softer; his eyes aren’t cruel or seeking out flaws. He’s merely assessing, taking in new information about Dan that he didn’t have before.

Dan has always blushed around his chest and neck; he hopes that Tommy thinks it’s just the sun. 

Tommy grins at him and then tugs off his own shirt; he, of course, looks like something out of a magazine. True, there is a long, thin, curved line around Tommy’s side where surgeons had to cut him open to remove the bullet, but as Dan expected, it’s really not as terrifying as Tommy made it seem. It’s no more noticeable than his bondmark, which stands out against the freckled skin on his neck. 

“You look fine,” Dan says, conscious of the understatement. “Go swim.” 

Tommy grins and looks around for his dog. “Lucca!” He calls, chasing after her. “Lucca, where’s your ball?” 

Dan lingers for a little bit in the waves, then returns to home base, where Lovett wordlessly nods to a beach chair evidently set up for him. He sits down in the little circle where many of the other staffers are relaxing and spends the next two hours enjoying the view of the inside of his eyelids. 

Later, after he’s woken up and is idly watching a sand piper run towards and away from the sea, Jon returns from an errand Dan wasn’t aware he was on. Tyler’s following him; they’re both carrying several brown bags Dan recognizes from Shake Shack. 

“Hey,” Jon motions to Dan, “go get Tommy before he turns into a prune - lunchtime.” 

Dan gets up, the joints in his knees creaking. He jogs over to the shore, where he can see Tommy bobbing up and down a little ways away. 

“Hey!” He calls. “Come back! Food’s here!” 

“I can’t!” Tommy yells. 

Dan furrows his brow. “Why not?” He yells. 

“I lost my swimsuit!” 

_ Oh _ . “Where is it?” He shouts. 

“It fell off me and washed away!” 

Okay, that’s just fucking funny. “So you’re naked?” 

“Dan!” Tommy’s frustration is audible even over the waves. “Can you help me, please?!” 

Dan feels a giggle bubble up in his chest. “Yeah! I’ll be right back!” 

He walks back over to his backpack, humming as he goes.  _ It was an itsy-bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikini…  _

“Where’s Tommy?” Jon asks. 

“He -“ Dan has to pause so he doesn’t laugh. “He lost his swimsuit in the water, so he can’t leave.” 

Jon grins in absolute delight. “Oh my God.” 

Dan grabs the spare swimsuit he brought.  _ Tommy, you’re lucky I brought an extra.  _

He runs back out, wading into the water and eventually swimming over to where Tommy is hovering in place.  _ And now she can’t get out of the water…  _

“Hey,” Tommy says breathlessly. 

“Hey,” Dan replies. “You know, Tommy, skinny-dipping isn’t exactly the most professional -“ 

“Dan!” 

Dan laughs as he hands over the clothing; Tommy sinks a little in the water as he puts it on. There’s a tingling in the back of his mind, in the bond; it feels a little like when he was little, and he touched the television screen in his living room; there’s static in his fingertips. 

They both turn and look towards the shore, where Dan can see Jon and Lovett waiting for them. 

“Did you tell them?” Tommy asks. 

As if on cue, Lovett doubles over in laughter next to Jon. 

“What do  _ you  _ think?” Dan replies. 

They both swim back to the shore, Tommy wearing Dan’s red swimsuit.

Lovett is positively teeming with wisecracks as soon as they arrive. “You’re looking pretty pink, there, Tommy. Forget sunscreen? Got a little burnt?” 

“Shut up,” Tommy says, blushing even redder. Dan tilts his head up to the sky and laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from "Love Again (Akinyele Back)" by Run the Jewels.


	7. On New Year's Eve, and the Prodigal Son

_ Okay, Pfeiffer. Just like you practiced. You’re the communicator. This is easy.  _

“Hey, Tommy, can I talk to you for a second?” The glare of the sun is bright through the windows of the Crooked offices, causing Dan to squint a little.

Tommy looks up from where he’s peering over Jon’s shoulder at his laptop. “Uh, can you give me, like, five minutes?”    
  
“Sure.” Plenty of time for Dan to stress out some more.    
  
It’s not that Dan is presenting Tommy a bad idea, or that he’s convincing him to make a sacrifice. On the contrary; when Dan had pitched the idea to Alyssa, she had said that it sounded like something Tommy would agree to right away. 

So why is Dan so fucking nervous about it?    
  
To pass the time, Dan sits down on one of the couches and checks messages on his phone. There’s a photo from Alyssa of some flurries in New York, a voice memo from his mom that’s probably another question about impeachment, and a text from his brother that he isn’t planning on responding to any time soon. Okay. No breaking news. That’s good. Dan doesn’t need anything else raising his blood pressure today.    
  
“You needed me?” Tommy looks deceptively nonthreatening in his soft grey hoodie and jeans; Dan knows better than to let his guard down. 

_ If he says no, don’t take it personally. It’s not a big deal; you’re asking him to go out of his way, and make a long trip in possibly bad weather to hang out with a bunch of people he doesn't know.  _

“Yeah, uh - so, um. We’re bonded.” Dan stands and steps a little closer so it’s clear they’re talking privately. It’s unlikely that anyone really gives a shit about a conversation between Dan and Tommy… but it’s also 2pm on a Tuesday, and there hasn’t been any good inter-office gossip in nearly a month. If Dan were someone walking by, he’d probably eavesdrop. (Then again, he’s the type of person to eavesdrop.)

Tommy quirks up the corners of his mouth in amusement. “We are, indeed, bonded, Dan.”    
  
“Yeah, so, um…”  _ Get to the fucking point!  _ “The holidays are coming up soon.”    
  
“Okay…”    
  
“And, I was thinking… we’re going to be bonded for… a while.” Dan can’t really make himself say  _ forever.  _ “I think - that kind of makes us... I don’t want to say - just - we’re more than colleagues, you know?”    
  
Tommy raises his eyebrows. “I’d like to think we’ve always been more than colleagues, Dan,” he intones seriously.   
  
Great, now Dan’s blushing. “Right. Well - if we’re, uh, bonded, and we’re… close…” Dan takes a deep breath. “I… want you to meet my family.”    
  
Tommy blinks at him. “You - you do?”    
  
“Yeah, just… my parents have heard a lot about you, and… if we’re going to be doing this until we’re…”    
  
“Old and grey,” Tommy finishes;  _ God _ is Dan glad they’re on the same page.    
  
“Right, then - then I want you to feel welcome around the people who’ve… raised me, I guess. I don’t know. This is - this is a long way of saying, that, uh - my mom throws a New Year’s party, every year, and my whole family comes, and I’ll be there, and I know that you go to Boston for Christmas, and Boston’s just a train ride away from Delaware, and… um. I’d spot you the ticket, and you could… come with me.” It sounds unbelievably stupid now that Dan has said it out loud. What an awful idea this was. Dan feels like a six foot cringe embodied. There’s no way Tommy’s going to agree to this. “I mean - you’re invited. There’s an extra seat at the table for you. My mom and her sister - she cooks. It’s a whole thing. If - if you’re not doing anything else on New Year’s Eve…”   
  
“You’re inviting me to a New Year’s party so I can meet your parents and the rest of the Pfeiffer clan?” Tommy sounds charmed by the idea, surprisingly .    
  
“Basically, yeah. You don’t have to… but it’s just an idea I’m throwing out there.” Dan didn’t realize how much he wanted Tommy to say yes until this very moment. Now that he's let himself picture it, he wants it badly. Is he sweating or flushed or managing to appear normal at this moment? This is torture.   
  
Tommy smiles, bright like the December sun outside. “I’d love to. I’ll have to check train times but - that sounds really nice.”    
  
Dan lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Really?”    
  
“Sure. I gotta say, though - I’m surprised you’re picking me as your plus one.”    
  
Dan furrows his brow. “Why?”    
  
“Don’t you think it might be more productive to bring Susan?”    
  
Dan has to take a second to go through the same logical thought process that Tommy just did. “No, I mean - we’re friends, but. It’s not like that. We’re not really… dating.”    
  
“No?” Tommy puts his hands in his pockets; he looks sympathetic. “You two seemed to have a thing for a little while.”    
  
“Yeah, it, uh…” Dan trails off, unsure how to verbalize what happened.  _ She wants me to talk in public about my experience being bonded and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that - I’m also sure you’re  _ not  _ comfortable with that.  _ “It didn’t really work out. We have different ideologies, I guess you could say. We’re still friends though.”    
  
“Okay.” Tommy shrugs. “I guess I get to be the lucky one who tags along for the Pfeiffer holiday spectacular.”    
  
Dan chuckles. “Something like that.” 

“I’ll go look up train tickets, okay?” Tommy gestures back to his computer.    
  
“Okay.” Dan feels a light, happy fizzy feeling rise up in the back of his mind, like champagne bubbles. He can’t tell if that’s Tommy’s emotions coming through the bond or if it’s his own relief. It’s probably the latter.    
  
As soon as Tommy disappears down the hallway, Dan pulls out his phone and texts his mom. 

_ Confirming another seat at the table for New Year’s.  _

His mom texts back several balloon emojis. 

The holidays sneak up on Dan; they tend to do that now that he’s living in a place with no snow. Christmas comes without much fanfare, if you ignore the aisles of decorations and candy in the supermarkets and drugstores. 

He flies to Delaware after wrapping up a few podcasts at home, packing as many sweaters as he can and bringing plenty of presents for every one of his nieces. 

Christmas Eve itself is good, though he does find himself getting a bit melancholy over the prospect of another year going by without having a wife or a kid to wish him happy birthday. He doesn’t normally think of himself as the picket fence type, but seeing his brother arrive at their parents’ house with all four little girls in tow and a baby in his wife’s arms is bound to make anyone envious of that life.    
  
The days pass in flashes of color and light; snow flurries stick to the windows of the Pfeiffers’ home as presents are unwrapped and games of Trivial Pursuit are played under the twinkling lights of his mom's plastic tree. His mother gives him a very nice set of button-down shirts; he receives a book about the history of the NBA from his brother. In the days after Christmas and before New Year’s, Dan takes the older girls to the Crayola factory, and manages to  _ not  _ bore his sister-in-law to death with his extensive knowledge of the Pennsylvania canal system. It’s a good Christmas and a good birthday all around - he hadn’t realized how much he missed his family, living so far away in Los Angeles. It feels good to be surrounded by people who love you unconditionally.    
  
Of course, the universe long ago decided that Dan Pfeiffer couldn’t exist stress-free for long. Before he knows it, New Year’s Eve has rolled around, and Tommy Vietor is waiting for him at the Wilmington train station, looking like he stepped out of a  _ Season’s Greetings!  _ postcard with snowflakes sticking to his wool overcoat and a red tinge to his cheeks from the cold. 

“I forgot how fucking cold it is, man,” Tommy says, dropping his overnight bag in the backseat and sliding into the passenger side of Dan’s dad’s car. “It’s freezing. You could feel the chill from inside the train car.” 

“You’ve been on the West Coast for too long,” Dan teases. “Consider yourself lucky you didn’t get here during a snowstorm.”    
  
“I’m just glad there’s still snow, period,” Tommy replies, looking out the window at passing shops and street signs. “Gives me hope that we haven’t screwed up the planet completely.”    
  
“Don’t be so fatalist,” Dan dismisses, “everything can be fixed.” He’s not entirely sure that’s true, but the holiday season has left him with a sense of optimism he wants to keep close. Maybe it’s the constant refrain of giggles and good cheer and hugs from his nieces; maybe it’s the text he got from Lovett saying  _ the goyim were lucky to get you as a present, happy birthday buddy.  _ Either way, he wants to avoid the topics of Trump or global warming or anything like that for the next day or two. 

“So,” Tommy runs a hand through his hair; it looks a bit darker, damp from the snow. “Am I just meeting the immediate family, or…?”    
  
“No, everyone’s going to be there. Aunt Lucinda likes to make it a quasi-family reunion every year. So there will be…” Dan shrugs and turns the steering wheel, “my parents, and my brother, and his family, but there will also be cousins, and great aunts and uncles, and I’m sure a few family friends and… a lot of people who started coming in around five and probably won’t leave until one in the morning, none of whom you have to talk to.”    
  
“Are you kidding? I’m excited!” Tommy grins. “This is like learning the superhero’s origin story.”    
  
Dan gets the uncomfortable image of himself in tights and a cape. “Whatever works for you, Tommy.”    


They spend the next few minutes in silence, Dan navigating the hypnotizing vortex of snowflakes illuminated by the car’s headlights.    
  
“Hey, um,” Tommy shifts a little in his seat, “of the people at the party… does everyone… know, that we’re, uh - you know?”    
  
Dan swallows. “My parents know.”    
  
A pause. “That’s not an answer.”    
  
“No, not everyone knows.” Dan doesn’t know if that’s the right answer or not. “I figured… we can just say that we’re friends. I mean, that’s the truth.”    
  
“Right…” Tommy frowns. “But… doesn’t that kind of leave room for interpretation?”    
  
Dan has no idea what Tommy means by that and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to speculate for the sake of his own sanity. “I think… people will take us at our word. My family’s not a bunch of Fox News junkies; they know what’s real and what’s not.” 

An edge must have crept into his voice, because Tommy leans over and gently squeezes his shoulder. “Hey, relax. I’m not worried about it,” his voice warm and reassuring.   
  
No, but now Dan is.    
  
The party is in full swing when they arrive; Dan can see people through the windows and can hear the muffled tones of the Vince Guaraldi Trio playing on his dad’s old record player. 

“Dan! You’re back.” His mother seems to float towards them as if walking on a cloud; she’s always been in her element when she’s entertaining. “And you must be Tommy.”    
  
“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, looking behind himself as Dan dutifully takes his coat to hang it up on the hook by the door. “That’s me. It’s great to meet you, Mrs. -”    
  
“Please, call me Vivian,” his mom interrupts. “Mrs. Pfeiffer is my husband’s mom - and she’s in the other room.” She nods towards the living room.    
  
“Okay, Mrs. - Vivian.” Tommy nods with the awkward excitement of meeting a friend’s parents. “And you must be…”    
  
“Gary Pfeiffer,” Dan’s father says, leaning over to shake Tommy’s hand. “We’ve heard a lot from you, it’s good to put a face to the voice.”    
  
“You listen to the podcast?” Tommy raises his eyebrows.    
  
“Of course! Not to mention Dan talks about you all the time.”    
  
“Does he?” Tommy turns to Dan, who feels his face get warm.    
  
“I talk about everybody at work,” Dan explains, a touch defensive.    


“We’re really glad you could come,” Vivian says to Tommy. “After what happened - it’s really good that you and Dan have been able to work things out with your -” she lowers her voice, leaning in, “ _ bond.  _ I mean, you’ve been right there for Dan! It’s really sweet.”    
  
“Well, I mean…” Tommy shrugs, bashful. “He’s the one who was there for me.”    
  
Dan needs to change the subject as soon as possible. He knows that’s the reason Tommy’s here, but - Tommy is still occasionally reluctant to talk about the bond at  _ all,  _ never mind the circumstances in which it was formed.    
  
Dan still remembers the way Tommy had glared at him after learning that Dan had bonded with him; the memory stings like the cold winter air had stung his skin outside.    


“Hey, Dan, get the man a glass of punch or something,” Bob steps in and gestures for the four of them to head towards the kitchen. “What kind of host are you?” 

“A bad one, though that’s no surprise.” Dan gestures for Tommy to follow. “That’s my brother, Bob.”    
  
“The senior, better looking Pfeiffer,” Bob adds, pressing a beer into Tommy’s left hand and shaking his right. “Over there is my wife, Ashley -” he points out to the living room, “and my daughters are… causing mischief somewhere, I’m sure.”    
  
“That’s awesome.” Tommy smiles. “How many do you have?”    
  
“Five,” Dan answers, “enough to ensure there’s trouble wherever they go.”    
  
“As long as it’s at your expense, I’m okay with it,” Bob says proudly. 

“Of course, there’s so many more people to meet, Tommy,” Vivian adds. “Which you three should all go do! Go, socialize!” she makes a shooing motion with her hands. “I want at least one embarrassing picture to come out of this evening, or next year I'm double spiking the punch!”    


As they make their way to the living room, Bob briefly pulls Dan to the side and raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Is he…?”    
  
Dan has to take a moment to process what Bob’s saying. “No.”    
  
“Are you sure?” 

Dan forces himself to laugh, a bit nervously. “I think I would know if it were otherwise, Bob.”    
  
“Really? Because after Christmas in ‘04 -”    
  
“Oh my God.” Dan’s face must be the color of the poinsettias by the stairs. “It is…  _ nothing _ like that. He’s my friend, and we’re bonded.”    
  
“Right.” Bob rolls his eyes. “Thank you for telling me that little piece of information, by the way,  _ two hours  _ before I was going to meet the guy.”    
  
“It’s not a big deal! I didn’t tell you because - because I knew you’d jump to conclusions.”    
  
Bob sighs. He looks a little hurt. “I’m not jumping to anything - just hoping. I want you to be happy, Dan, that’s all.”    
  
“I am happy. Really.” Dan tries to sound reassuring. “Tommy is - Tommy is here because I wanted him to meet you guys, and because he’s in my head and he’s going to be for a long time. That’s all.”    
  
“Okay.” Bob holds up his hands. “He seems like a cool guy. I’ve got no problem.”    
  
“Good.” Dan nods. “Hey, does Harper still listen to the podcast?”    
  
“Sometimes - why?”   
  
“Maybe she’ll get a kick out of seeing Tommy Vietor in the flesh.” Dan can’t remember if it’s Jon or Tommy that Harper has a crush on, but odds are she’ll enjoy seeing whichever host isn’t her boring uncle.    
  
Bob smiles. “We’ll have to get her off her phone first, but I think she’ll come up from the basement for that.”    


Introducing Tommy to the rest of Dan’s relatives turns out to be a lot easier than Dan thought. Most of them don’t even ask about Tommy’s relationship to Dan, though that might be a problem in and of itself. But after a glass or two of punch, Dan can’t bring himself to care. He’s surrounded by good people and good conversation - what more could he possibly ask for?    
  
“Uncle Dan?” Rebecca tugs on his sleeve; at six years old she looks positively angelic in the red and black tunic her mother apparently had to force her into earlier that day.    


“What is it, sweetheart?”    
  
“I made your friend a card.” She holds out a small piece of construction paper folded in half.    
  
“Oh, thank you!” Dan had mentioned that Tommy was coming, just in passing over the last few days, but he didn’t know that the girls had noticed. “Tommy, come here, Rebecca wants to give something to you.” 

Tommy crouches down to look Rebecca in the eye. “Hi, Rebecca! I’m Tommy. I’m a friend of your uncle’s.”   
  
Rebecca hides behind her hair. “Hi. I know.”    


“Are you going to stay up until midnight?” 

Rebecca nods. “Mama says we can, just for tonight.”    
  
“That is super cool. Very grown up.” Tommy nods knowingly. “Dan says you have something for me?”    
  
She sways a little, her skirt moving. “You weren’t here at Christmas.”    
  
_ Oh.  _ Suddenly Dan knows exactly what Tommy meant by people misinterpreting their relationship. To a little kid, adults come in pairs, and if Tommy’s with Dan…

“Santa brought my presents to Boston,” Tommy explains easily.    
  
“Okay.” Rebecca seems to be gathering her nerve. “We - we made a present for you anyway.”    
  
Dan hands him the card and Tommy opens it, revealing a very elaborate drawing of some snowflakes decorated with glitter, some of which spills out of the card and onto Tommy’s shoes.  _ Happy Holidays!!!!  _ is written in neater cursive than Dan will ever write. 

“Thank you, Rebecca,” Tommy says. “This is wonderful.”    
  
Rebecca nods and then runs off, presumably to go hide behind her mother’s skirt.    
  
“That was really nice,” Tommy says. “She didn’t even know me but she made me a card.”    
  
“I… may have mentioned you, once or twice,” Dan mentions with a shrug. “Had to warn the family about you, you know?”   
  
Tommy rolls his eyes and grins.    
  
“Howard!” a voice calls from across the room. “Howard, why haven’t you introduced me to your friend?”   
  
Dan takes a deep breath. “No sudden movements, okay?” He murmurs to Tommy.    
  
Tommy frowns, confused. “What?”    
  
He takes Tommy by the arm and turns him around, pasting on a smile. “Hi, Aunt Lucinda.”    
  
“Howard, it’s so good to see you.” Lucinda leans in and kisses Dan on the cheek, what must be her third glass of wine nearly spilling in her other hand.    
  
“You saw me earlier today.”    
  
“Oh, I must have forgotten. Who’s this lovely young man?” She smiles at Tommy, immediately taken, in the way that women seem to take to Tommy instantly.    
  
“This is my friend, Tommy Vietor.” Dan gestures to Tommy, who reaches out and shakes Lucinda’s hand. Lucinda quirks up an eyebrow.    
  
“‘Friend’? Is that like, a special friend?” Dan can see the gossip column already forming in her mind. 

“Uh, no,” Dan cuts in, “He’s…” He trails off. What the fuck  _ is  _ Tommy to him? How does he sum up what Tommy is to him in a sentence? 

The hesitation makes Lucinda smile, a bit like a shark showing its teeth. She’s probably going to go home and tell every one of her children to be extra nice to poor closeted Dan the next time they see him. As if Dan doesn’t already have enough conspiracies to deal with, he'd like to avoid more of them within his own family. 

Tommy steps in. “I’m his bondmate,” he says simply, and Dan can’t turn to look at him fast enough.    
  
Tommy just said he was Dan’s bondmate. He didn’t provide some sort of excuse, or say he was here for some other reason. He linked his own bondmark to Dan. He’s never done that before.    
  
Dan swallows and waits for Lucinda to process this. She’s pretty much the family matriarch, at this point, and she will probably judge Dan for the next ten years based off of this moment.    
  
Lucinda just smiles politely. “That’s lovely! See, Howard, that wasn’t so difficult. How long have you two been bonded?”    
  
“A few months,” Tommy answers. “I was, uh, in a bit of trouble, and Dan bonded with me to keep me safe.”    
  
Dan sincerely hopes everyone around them gets the subtext.  _ This is a nontraditional bond. We aren’t married, or anything like that.  _ It’s hard for him to read the room when inside he’s still reeling from hearing Tommy talk about what happened like it’s no big deal.

Does this mean he’s okay with Dan talking about it? The very idea of Tommy giving him that freedom is such a gift that Dan doesn’t even know what to do with the thought.    


His mother appears behind him, very suddenly. “That’s our Dan,” she says warmly, “always looking out for people.”    
  
Dan could faint with relief.  _ Thank you, mom, for making it clear -  _

“Oh, but Howard, did you really have to make the mark so obvious? So possessive.” Lucinda takes a sip of her drink.    
  
Dan blinks, uncomprehending. “I beg your pardon?”    
  
“I mean, look at it.” She gestures to Tommy’s neck, where indeed the bondmark stands out, bright and garish and impossible to miss against Tommy’s pale skin. “I suppose I can’t fault you. With a face like that, who wouldn’t want to say ‘he’s mine!’”    
  
“Lucinda,” his mother warns gently.    
  
“I’m just saying, a bite like that makes it clear that you’re the jealous type.” She tilts her head back and laughs, a little too loud. “But look who’s talking, you know? God knows my mark isn’t subtle.” She gestures to her own neck, covered by a sweater. “Then again, that’s what I get for bonding with Gene, God rest his soul, while we were tumbling around in the sheets -”    
  
“Aunt Lucinda?” Bob touches her shoulder. “Do you, uh, want to help me with the baby?” 

“The baby?” Immediately Lucinda’s attention shifts. “Of course, dear.”    
  
Bob begins to lead her away; Dan mouths  _ thank you _ at him as he goes.    
  
He turns back to Tommy. “So… I don’t think she really got the nuance of our relationship.”    
  
Tommy looks positively delighted. “I think she’s fantastic.”    
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Now, do you want another drink? Because clearly I’m going to need to be way less sober than I am now to survive the rest of the night.” 

Despite his insistence on acquiring more alcohol, Dan finds he doesn’t really need it for the rest of the evening. Tommy charms each and every one of Dan’s relatives and friends with whom he comes into contact; he always has the right joke or comment to make, before moving on gracefully to the next person. It reminds Dan of how important the ability to connect and engage with people is in politics; Tommy has clearly been honing this skill for a while, even if he doesn’t always need to employ it. 

Towards the end of the night, several people have gone home, but those who haven’t have gotten louder and more energetic to keep up with the lateness of the hour. After one particularly loud burst of laughter from where his father is holding court, Dan turns to Tommy and says, “you want to go someplace a little more quiet?”    
  
“Sure, what you got in mind?”    
  
Dan shrugs. “I can show you my childhood bedroom.”    
  
“Okay.” 

Dan leads Tommy upstairs, past baby pictures and heirloom photographs of grandparents and great grandparents. 

His bedroom is an area frozen in time, his Michael Jordan poster still hung up on the door. After he went to college, his mom had cleared out a lot of stuff, but there’s still the Georgetown banner lying faded on his bookshelf, next to the chess club participation trophy he got in middle school. Other bits and pieces of his life have gathered here, too - old cassettes are collecting dust from when he begged his father for a Walkman but had to pay for each album with his own money, and Dan’s sure he'd find his baby clothes folded away in the closet, next to the blanket he got everyone to sign at summer camp in ‘85. 

“Huh.” Tommy leans over and peers into the bookshelves, tilting his head so he can read some of the titles on the spines. “So this is where it all began.”    
  
“All what?” Dan can’t help his smile.    
  
“All - you! The Dan Pfeiffer story.”    
  
“My least favorite CNN documentary.”    
  
“You know what I mean.” Tommy moves past Dan and looks at the few framed pictures on the wall, showing Dan’s high school graduation, his group of friends senior year of high school, and the time he got to meet then-senator Joe Biden. “It’s cool to see… the colors that paint the picture, you know?”    
  
“Sure.” Dan looks out the window; the snow’s coming down a bit harder now, but it probably won’t stick to the ground; it’s the big kind of snowflakes, the kind that cover everything in a layer of powdered sugar but don’t pile up. 

“Is this where you’re staying tonight?” Tommy asks.    
  
“Yeah - you get the guest room.” The idea of Tommy in a Wilmington hotel room sounded ridiculous to both Dan and his mother.    
  
Tommy sits down on the bed and immediately raises his eyebrows at the obnoxious  _ squeak  _ that arises from the bedsprings. He shifts a little, and the bed squeaks and creaks some more.    
  
“Oh, wow,” Tommy comments, “I would… not have liked that, as a teenager.”    
  
Dan chuckles, looking at his feet. “Uh, yeah, that was… I won’t comment further on that.”    
  
Tommy lies down flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you think…” He scratches his nose, “did you think you’d be the person you are now, when you were still living here, then?” 

“Well…” Dan thinks for a moment. “No. No, I was pretty sure I was going to be a professional basketball player at that point.”  
  
Tommy’s cheeks are a bit pink when he smiles - probably because of the beers. “I’d like to think it all worked out,” he says. His voice has gone soft and boyish.    
  
“Of course it did,” Dan agrees, “I met you, and Jon and Lovett, and all sorts of people. It worked out brilliantly.”   
  
Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but a sound far off in the distance interrupts him. It’s soft, melancholy. Dan recognizes it.    
  
“Train horn,” he explains. Tommy nods. “You know, I used to, uh, get upset when I heard that sound.”    
  
Tommy leans up on his elbows. “Of the train horn?” He raises an eyebrow.    
  
“Don’t judge, I was five,” Dan defends. “Yeah, I don’t know - I guess it just… seemed really sad to me. Like an animal calling out, or something like that. But, uh, my dad used to make me feel better by telling me that it was just the sound of people going home.”    
  
Tommy nods. “That’s really sweet.”    
  
“Yeah.” Dan feels awkwardness creep up his spine. He looks away, back towards the door. The party is still going on downstairs - he has no idea how close it is to midnight. He doesn’t feel tired at all. 

His phone buzzes. He ignores it and chooses instead to look over at Tommy, who meets his eyes.    
  
For a moment, even the party downstairs disappears. It’s just the two of them, here in Dan’s childhood bedroom. Two pairs of blue eyes and one bondmark between them. 

Tommy is the one to look away first. “Um.” He shifts, the bed squeaking again. “Come over here, I have something to give you.”    
  
“Something for me?” Dan walks over and lies down on the bed on his side, facing Tommy. It’s a tight squeeze but they fit, mere inches between them. 

“Yeah, uh.” Tommy pulls a small envelope out of his back pocket. “Your birthday was Christmas Eve, right?”    
  
“Yeah,” Dan says, “but you didn’t have to -”    
  
“I wanted to.” Tommy hands him the envelope. “Here. Happy, um, belated, I guess.”    
  
Dan leans up on one elbow to open the envelope. Inside is a small piece of paper, folded into quarters. When he opens it, he sees a coupon for a familiar pizza place.    
  
He looks up, trying to appear unamused, but Tommy’s shit-eating grin makes him laugh as soon as he sees it.    
  
“Wow, thank you, I’ll be sure to use this.” Dan rolls his eyes.    
  
“Why not? You had such a good experience last time!” Tommy snickers, and Dan shoves him playfully on the shoulder.    
  
“Yeah, great experience, ten out of ten, would recommend.” Dan tries to convey as much sarcasm as possible, and is rewarded with the sound of Tommy’s laughter.    
  
Tommy eventually settles himself down and once again looks directly into Dan’s eyes. “Turn it over,” he says. “Look on the back.”    
  
With a slightly suspicious look, Dan turns the sheet over to see… a receipt for two Stubhub tickets.    
  
To a basketball game. Sixers vs. Lakers in Los Angeles.    
  
“Oh… wow.” Dan feels a knot form in his throat. “Oh my God, Tommy, these are… almost courtside seats.”

“Yeah, well.” Tommy leans in and glances down at the sheet. “I wanted to do something nice for you. And, uh, you don’t have to, like - like you can go with anybody, you could take Susan, if you wanted -” 

“Of course I’m going to take you,” Dan stops him, “don’t be ridiculous.”    
  
Tommy smiles, shy, but pleased. He sinks back down onto the pillow; Dan looks over his form. He’s long, but compact; Dan can see how someone would find the smooth line of his legs leading up to his waist and torso attractive, would get lost in the way the fabric of his jeans bunches up around his knees, the way his button-down has been pushed up to reveal the soft blond hair on his forearms.

There’s a sparkle there, hidden on Tommy’s skin.    
  
“You’ve got a bit of - um.” Dan reaches out, and brushes away the tiny bit of glitter that must have spilled out from Rebecca’s Christmas card. 

“Oh.” Tommy tracks the movement, his eyes moving up Dan’s arm and landing back on Dan’s face. “Thank you.” 

Dan lets his fingertips linger on Tommy’s skin for a second before pulling away. He feels something cozy and comforting in the bond - maybe a fire being lit, in one of the rooms in the house they share.    
  
Downstairs, there’s a sudden cheer. Tommy glances down at his watch and Dan looks over to see the time. It’s midnight.    
  
“I’m not kissing you,” Dan jokes. Tommy looks up at him and laughs, hard, turning his head back and away.    
  
“I - yeah, I wouldn’t think so.” Tommy’s eyes are twinkling; Dan’s drawn to the glimmer there. “We should - we should probably get back down to the party.”    
  
“That sounds like a good idea.” Dan isn’t sure he believes his own words - he wants to stay here, soaking in the happiness of his friend.    
  
Another train horn sounds off in the distance. 

“Listen to that,” Tommy says quietly. “The sound of people going home.” 

“Yeah.” Dan wants to take this moment and preserve it, like an image in a snowglobe. He wants to be able to go back to it when he needs this feeling.    
  
Back at the party, there’s a loud popping sound, and some whoops of laughter from Aunt Lucinda. Champagne is probably being poured.    
  
“Happy New Year, Tommy,” Dan says, his voice barely above a whisper.    
  
“Happy New Year, Dan.” 

\---

As much as Dan would have liked to sleep in until noon on New Year’s Day, he already knew the moment he entered his parents’ house that such a fantasy was never going to become reality. 

“Oh, stop grumbling, Dan.” His father rolls his eyes at him in the mirror as he ties his necktie. “It’s one Sunday out of the year.”    
  
“Two Sundays, if you count Christmas Mass,” Dan points out.    
  
“Two Sundays, then. I’d lecture you about God and all of His gifts, but -” he turns around, “really, don’t you want to make your mother happy?”    
  
Dan can’t really say no to that. He sips some of the horrible instant coffee his parents keep in the pantry specifically for guests and wanders over to the guest bedroom, the bright winter sunlight filtering through the windows as he passes by.    
  
“You don’t have to go, you know,” Dan says. “You can stay and sleep in.”    
  
Tommy puts his phone away and shrugs. “I’m already dressed, and besides, it would be rude of me not to go. I’m a guest, you know?”    
  
“I suppose.” Dan doesn’t think of himself as anti-church, but he does think of himself as someone who thinks New Year’s Day should be a twenty-four hour period where no one does anything productive. “If the girls get on your nerves, though, don’t come crying to me about it.”    
  
“Who, Bob’s kids? They’re great.”    
  
“Yes, and they’re going to cause havoc during Mass.” Dan wrinkles his nose and peers down into his mug. Is this sludge even worth the caffeine boost? “But… there will be brunch, afterwards.”    
  
“See? You’re already looking on the bright side.” Tommy stands and grins, moving forward and clapping Dan on the shoulder. He looks full of sunshine this morning. “It’ll be fun - I can’t tell you the last time I was in a Catholic church.”    
  
“You’re such a WASP, Tommy,” Dan teases.    
  
Tommy begins his retort when downstairs his mother calls, “Come on, it’s almost noon!” 

Between Dan’s parents, Dan, Tommy, Bob, Ashley, Bob’s children, Lucinda, and Dan’s two cousins, they take up an entire pew upon arriving at St. Maria’s. As Dan expected, the children (with the exception of Harper, who is 13 and 100% done with everything around her) are restless and fussy, constantly whispering to each other. Bob and Ashley are trying their best to calm everyone down, but towards the second reading baby Carolyn starts to cry, and Bob has to take his attention away from Clarissa and Molly so he can find the pacifier in Ashley’s handbag.   
  
“A reading from the gospel according to Luke,” the priest says. 

“Glory to you, O Lord,” Dan says absentmindedly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Clarissa and Rebecca arguing. They’re still whispering, but their voices are getting louder.    
  
“And He said, ‘A man had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.’ So he divided his wealth between them. And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distant country, and there he squandered his estate with loose living. Now when he had spent everything, a severe famine occurred in that country, and he began to be impoverished,” the priest continues.   
  
_ “You promised I could play with it!”  _ Rebecca hisses.    
  
_ “I will, but you have to trade!”  _ Clarissa replies. Her father gives her a stern look, but she just turns back to her sister and continues to talk.    
  
“So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would have gladly filled his stomach with the pods that the swine were eating, and no one was giving anything to him. But when he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.”’ The priest turns the page; there’s the sound of a hundred other churchgoers turning pages simultaneously.    
  
_ “I don’t want to trade - it’s not a two person toy!”  _ Rebecca’s fussing earns her a glare from Ashley, who is on the other side of Dan. Dan sees the two girls quiet down for a moment or two; that won’t last long.    
  
“So he got up and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ And they began to celebrate.”

_ “You’re being really stupid!”  _ Clarissa pushes Rebecca lightly. Rebecca frowns, looking dangerously close to tears.    
  
_ “You can’t say that, you’re in God’s house!”  _ She hisses back; Dan decides now might be the best moment to intervene.    


He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two small lollipops, tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Silently, he leans back and hands them to Clarissa and Rebecca, positioning himself so that Ashley can see what he’s doing, but he’s hidden from his brother’s watchful gaze. (He’d rather not get the evil eye for spoiling his nieces; isn’t that in his job description as an uncle?)

The priest is still reading, unaware of the chaos just a few pews down from where he stands. “Now his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. And he summoned one of the servants and began inquiring what these things could be. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he became angry and was not willing to go in; and his father came out and began pleading with him.” 

Clarissa and Rebecca look up at him with wide-eyed wonder when they receive the sweets. He puts a finger to his lips in the ‘shhh’ motion. They nod obediently.   
  
It won’t solve the problem entirely, but it’ll at least get them through Mass. 

Bob tilts his head forward to look down past Ashley and Tommy at Dan; he mouths  _ what’s up?  _ in confusion. 

Dan mouths back  _ mischief,  _ which he thinks is funny, even if Bob doesn’t get the joke. 

“But he answered and said to his father, ‘Look! For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me even a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends; but when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.’” The priest pauses. “The gospel of the Lord.” 

“Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ,” everyone responds automatically.    
  
The homily passes blessedly without incident; Dan winks at Tommy as he passes him to receive communion.    
  
Afterwards, when everyone’s filing out, Ashley looks around for her husband in the vestibule but finds him nowhere to be found.    
  
“I think he’s outside with Harper and the others,” Dan explains. “He left us to collect Lucinda.” He motions with his eyes over at his aunt, talking to the priest who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else at the moment.    
  
“Okay - would you, um, take Carolyn for a second?” Ashley shifts her daughter to her other arm. “I want to show Molly the baby Jesus.” She nods towards the altar. 

“Sure.” Dan holds his arms open and takes Carolyn. She’s still so very tiny, not much more than a bundle with a few wisps of dark brown hair, pinned into place by a green and red bow.    
  
Dan rocks her a little in place and is just beginning to wonder where Tommy is when he hears Tommy’s voice next to him. 

“You’re pretty good with her.” 

Dan smiles down at his niece. “Nah, she’s just a sweetheart.” 

Carolyn yawns, her eyes closed, and snuggles closer into Dan’s chest, seeking out the warmth there. It’s impossibly adorable. 

Dan looks back up. “You okay?”    
  
Tommy raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, why?”    
  
“Your face is all red.” 

“Is it?” Tommy shrugs. “I’m fine.”    


As if she teleported, Lucinda suddenly appears next to them, Ashley and Molly behind her. “What are you two waiting for?” She says impatiently. “Time for brunch!”    
  
The rest of the day passes with the frenetic energy that characterizes every Pfeiffer family gathering; after brunch, there’s the testing out of a toy drone Harper got for Christmas. Then there’s the attempted assembly of a cabinet in the den that Dan’s father never got around to finishing, and before Dan knows it, it’s early evening and he and Tommy are passing the time until Tommy has to go back to the airport, playing darts in the basement of the Pfeiffer house. 

Dan’s block on the bond is down; they didn’t even have to talk about it. It’s Sunday; they both know what to do. 

“I mean it, everyone loves you,” Dan insists, throwing a dart towards the target on the wall and wrinkling his nose when it misses by a mile, landing on the ground. “You should have seen yourself at the party last night - I don’t know how you do it.”    
  
“Do what?”    
  
“Small talk.” Dan takes a sip of his beer. “I mean - I’m not like Lovett, I know how to do it, but… you make it look effortless.”    
  
Tommy shrugs. “It depends on the person I’m talking to. With some people, I’m not sure I’d want to make small talk with them. I don’t want to make small talk with you, for example.”    
  
“Right.” Dan steps out of the way and watches Tommy throw a dart forward, hitting the outer edge of the target. “Well, you’ve earned yourself a spot at every holiday dinner from now until the end of time. Seeing you at church? I thought Aunt Lucinda was going to write you into the will.”    
  
Tommy grins. “Church was good, it was fun to do that.”    
  
“Yeah?” Dan leans against the back of the couch. “You’re lucky, we got a good gospel reading this time.” 

“The two sons? I’ve heard that one before.” Tommy nods and sips his drink. “It always rubs me the wrong way, though.”    
  
“Why?”    
  
“I always end up sympathizing with the older brother,” he admits. “I know the point is that God forgives everyone, but… it’s hard to know that guy did everything right and yet the person who messed up gets rewarded.” 

“That’s true.” Dan thinks on it for a moment, taking a dart and throwing it at the target, watching it wobble and then fall to the ground. “I think I like that part of it, though. It makes it feel a lot more… real. Like it’s a story about real people. And to me, that’s what makes the Bible effective.”    
  
“How so?”    
  
“Just… that it’s not just helpful for teaching people to relate to God. It’s for teaching people to relate to each other, too.” Dan picks up another dart. “Like, that parable, today? It’s not just that God forgives all of us, even if we’ve really messed up. It’s that we should forgive each other when we mess up, because it’s the right thing to do.” 

“Right.” Tommy’s voice sounds a bit distant, all of a sudden. Dan turns to look at him, and sees for a brief instant a flash of pure vulnerability cross Tommy’s face.    
  
The dart flies out of his hand without his even looking at it; it hits the target right at the center.    
  
“Dan,” Tommy says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”    
  
“Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving my life.” 

Dan sucks in a breath. “You’re welcome.”    
  
They both stand there and look at each other for a few moments, before Tommy’s phone starts beeping in his back pocket.  
  
“It’s getting late,” he says, not breaking eye contact. “We need to get to the airport.”    
  
“Right,” Dan agrees. He shakes his head a little as if to clear it; there must be some sort of interference coming through the bond, because he feels dizzy and lightheaded. 

The drive to the airport is quick and uneventful; more snow falls around them as they go, tiny little pricks of white that make it hard for Dan to see what’s in front of him.    
  
When he gets back home, the house feels strangely quiet, despite the presence of five children. Dan finds himself back downstairs, picking up darts and collecting the two beer bottles he and Tommy had left behind. 

He pulls the dart in the center of the target out of the fabric, running his thumb over the impression it left behind. There’s only one small dot there.    
  
He might be the first Pfeiffer to ever hit the bullseye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The prodigal son text was from the gospel of luke, acquired here: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+15%3A11%E2%80%9332&version=NASB  
2\. many thanks to @fizzy for betaing, as always.


	8. On Threesomes, and Panic Attacks

It’s Saturday night, and Dan Pfeiffer is feeling good.    
  
The show had gone well - there’s not much more you can ask for than a responsive crowd, a good panel, and a week of impeachment proceedings. Jon had moderated an especially fruitful discussion of what the ultimate goal of impeachment should be, as the proceedings enter 2020, and there had been a really good semi-debate between Dan and Tommy about Kamala Harris’s latest criminal justice policy. 

What had really made the show brilliant, though, was Tommy’s interview with Erin and Stephen Nathanson - the former a founder of one of the largest legal nonprofits in America, the latter a former Congressman. The two of them have crowdfunded an incredibly effective digital ad campaign, focused solely on educating as many people on Facebook as possible about the various flaws and broken promises of the Republican Party. Dan loves them immediately, of course, because they’re young and smart and recognize how important the internet is in shaping policy and persuading people to vote Democrat. He also likes them because they’re funny, and they’re married, and it’s rare to see two political strategists working together and also, y’know,  _ being  _ together. It’s a fun power-couple energy that Dan hasn’t seen since the days of, well, the Clintons. (Not that they’re an ideal standard of relationship.) He’d like a partner who would work in politics with him. He likes the idea of building something for the country with a person he loves.    
  
The other reason that he likes Erin and Stephen so much is because they’re both very, very good looking. Erin has long blonde hair and lightly freckled skin and a laugh that sounds like bells ringing, and Stephen is all dark skin and dark eyes and has a low timbre in his voice that sends shivers up everyone’s spine, in a good way.    
  
Dan likes people who can hold a crowd. Who know their way around a political agenda. Who don’t take anyone’s shit. At times, he’d like to think he is one of those people. But more often, it feels as though he’s just surrounded by wonderful people, and all he can do is take notes.  
  
Not tonight, though. Tonight he feels included. The show went well, and he’s surrounded by friends, old and new.    
  
“Thanks for the drinks,” Stephen says, reaching over and squeezing Tommy’s broad shoulder. Tommy glows with happiness and slight inebriation.    
  
“Anytime,” he says.   
  
“We mean it, too, you guys were great on the pod,” Dan adds. Erin blushes pink and Dan can feel his own cheeks match the color.    
  
“We’ll definitely keep in touch, this was a lot of fun,” she says.    
  
They part ways, Dan with his cheeks slightly sore from smiling. He exchanges a shy, teasing look with Tommy in the elevator.    
  
He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s just in a good mood. Does that really need to be examined further? Dan doesn’t think so. Sometimes it’s enough just to feel good.    
  
There’s a restless tinge to it, though, and as he slides his key card into the lock to enter his hotel room, he wonders almost absentmindedly if there’s somewhere else he could go tonight, someone he could call. He wants to… do something else, something fun. He wants to drive a fast car, or go dancing, or go skinny-dipping like he did when he was a teenager. (Never mind the fact that it’s January.) 

He stands in his hotel room and looks over at the vast emptiness of his bed, the deliberately neutral painting on the wall, the blank slate of stationery on the side table.    
  
“I should jerk off,” he says to the empty room. The words sound even more like a good idea spoken out loud.    
  
He’s in a good mood, he’s feeling good, he wants to let off some steam. He’ll jerk off.    
  
He rummages around in his suitcase, looking for the small bottle of lube he keeps for emergencies (though this might not  _ qualify _ ) and lies down on the bed.    
  
He could just use his imagination, but honestly, Dan has never been much of a visual thinker. He pulls up a familiar site on his phone, plugs in his headphones, and begins to scroll through the videos.    
  
There’s the more hardcore stuff, right at the top in his recommendations. Dan does have a soft spot for BDSM, even though the most he’s actually done in real life is delivered a light spanking. Online, though, he can put himself in the position of someone much more experienced, imagining his own fingers deep inside someone bound and squirming on a bed, or his own hand wrapped around someone’s -    
  
No, tonight he’s in the mood for something softer. Something light, happy, that’ll keep up with his good mood. He wanders around the site for a while, looking at gifs and photos, idly searching through whatever tag strikes his fancy. Certain things hit the spot more than others - his cock twitches in his pants at the  _ blonde _ category, and he squeezes himself, moving his hands over his thighs, warming himself up to his own touch. It’s been a while since he’s really relaxed.    
  
Threesomes. That’s a good category. 

God, Erin and Stephen really  _ were  _ a good looking couple, weren’t they? It’s not as if Dan often jerks off to thoughts of his friends, but occasionally he draws upon inspiration from the real world, if only to give his fantasies the twinge of reality that has proven time and again to be erotic to him. Erin and Stephen certainly provide more than enough inspiration for his horny restless mind to build a fantasy around.    
  
He’d love to be in a threesome. Women in threesomes, at least in his fantasies, are always charming and charismatic. They’d have to be, to both soothe the ego of their partner and simultaneously get what they want. Which isn’t to say that Dan wouldn’t be welcome in this particular fantasy. No, in this fantasy, Dan would be welcomed with open arms by both parties, even by the guy, who would be suspicious at first, but ultimately would see that Dan is more than willing to -   
  
He unzips his fly and pushes his pants down a little, tapping with his thumb at one of the videos that looks more amateur than the airbrushed actors in most of the other films. It’s poorly lit, but the sound quality is good. Probably a group of swingers in a hotel somewhere, living out dreams that Dan is far too shy to pursue himself. He wonders which members are bonded. Is it the taller man that’s bonded with the woman? Is it the two men that are bonded? Are none of them bonded to each other, and the woman’s bondmark is from some other relationship, some life she lived before she did wild things like suck a stranger’s cock while another stranger eats her out? While being filmed?   
  
Dan feels a tight pressure build around his thighs, moving to his hips. He takes a deep breath and pushes his boxers and pants down, getting naked from the waist down.    


This probably won’t take long. He just… really feels everything at eleven tonight, doesn’t he? It’s like his skin is oversensitized. He can feel his nipples getting hard and dragging against his t-shirt, too.    
  
The lube feels good on his cock, cool and slick. He strokes himself evenly, squeezing his balls, getting fully hard. He thinks about the woman in the video, how her lips would feel around his cock. Thinks about the soft plushness of her mouth, the way it would contrast with the scruff on the shorter man’s face. He can imagine the drag of someone’s cheek and chin on his thighs; if he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine their expression, coy, teasing, as they move from sucking his cock to merely kissing it and then moving lower - 

Dan moves his hand up, covers the head of his cock with the palm of his hand. He lifts his hips ever so slightly, fucking into his own fist. 

_ That’s it, take his cock,  _ the taller man in the video says. Dan looks back at his screen and sees the woman on her elbows and knees, ass up in the air, a soft cry escaping her as she’s filled.    
  
Fuck, Dan misses that. Dan misses that moment, of trust and intimacy. Even in the most casual one night stand, there’s still a moment of contact, of connection, where you have to stop and consider that this other person has allowed you to spread their legs and push inside them, that you two are as close as can be -    


A warm, liquid feeling starts at his shoulders and moves down to his hips, pooling at the base of his cock. When he imagines someone running their hands down his back and over his hips and ass, the image is particularly vivid. 

Dan switches to another video, one in high definition. Usually he doesn’t want to be able to see every bead of sweat on an actor’s face, but tonight feels different. He feels like he has twice as much arousal coursing through his veins, and he needs the extra emphasis on the actors’ skin and sweat and come to compensate for the lack of someone else’s hands on him.    
  
God, what he wouldn’t give to be touched right now. He misses kissing, misses sex. He can feel the memories of it, some familiar, some more foreign, swirling around in the back of his mind. The basic primal joy of it, of being inside someone, of holding them tight and feeling them shudder underneath you. And  _ laughter -  _ that’s one thing that porn can’t replicate, that is such an important part of sex. Dan misses laughter, misses hearing his partner’s giggle turn into a gasp, their head tilting back, their lips parting, and Dan can look between their legs and see the mess between them, the result of their pleasure, proof of the deliciously filthy act, wonderful in its high stakes and high rewards -    
  
Dan drops his phone, his hands shaking slightly, and closes his eyes. He should slow down. He should try to draw this out more. It’s difficult, but he slows his pace on his cock, moves his fingers over the underside of his dick in a slow drag. 

He tries to rewind, to focus less on the climax (pardon the pun) of the fantasy, and more on the beginning. How would he be approached? Would the woman approach him first? Would she be shy, demure, looking up from under blonde eyelashes? Or would she corner him in a hallway (maybe at the Crooked offices) and pin him against a wall, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him, her hands sneaking up his t-shirt? Maybe she’d approach him with her partner, the two of them working in tandem, the way Erin and Stephen so effortlessly performed earlier tonight. Maybe it would all be a casual get-together of friends until one of them started undressing; Dan would turn around and see one of them stepping out of their pants, offering themselves up to him. Maybe it would just be that simple, and they’d fall into bed together. Or maybe the guy would approach him first -    
  
Dan bites back a little noise in his throat and spreads his legs further. He feels this overwhelming, delicious  _ pressure  _ \- building and building at his hips and towards the base of his cock. It’s other places, too - like someone is pushing at him, rocking against him, perhaps his partner would be desperate at this point, too, maybe they’d need his touch as badly as he needs theirs, and they’d both just rock against each other, searching for more, more, more - 

Something happens. From deep in the back of Dan’s mind, he gets a sense of something… different. It was present before, but it’s more defined now. It’s the good kind of different, an erotic heat that’s unlike what he’s used to when he’s jerking off. It’s intense; he strokes his cock faster and tries to lean into the feeling. He imagines sinking his cock into someone, being enveloped in heat and tightness. He wants to feel someone shudder underneath him, wants to hear them beg because they’re so desperate -    
  
An image flashes in his mind so vividly that a tactile sensation goes along with it; he feels, as clearly as if it were actually happening, the sensation of someone’s fingertips brushing along his wrist. It’s a small touch, but it’s so - so  _ specific.  _ It’s measured, careful, nothing like anything out of a fantasy. It’s like - like someone saying  _ hello.  _

It’s soft - soft and  _ sweet.  _

Dan comes with a choked-off groan, a sticky hot mess of come getting all over his stomach and thighs as he continues to stroke himself through it rapidly. Fuck, fuck, it feels so fucking good, holy shit, it’s so  _ good -  _

Wait.    
  
Was that… was that  _ Tommy?  _

Dan pulls his hands away from his cock and holds them in the air, trying to catch his breath.    
  
That moment, in the bond. Was that Tommy? Did Tommy sense him? 

Dan feels fear catch in his throat. Did he make Tommy uncomfortable? Did Tommy want to convey something to him? Was he being too - too loud, with his emotions? 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he didn’t feel what he thought he felt and his imagination got the best of him in the moment.    
  
Dan swallows and decides pointedly not to analyze why he might think of Tommy at a moment like this.    
  
If he wasn’t imagining, then… something just happened, here. Dan doesn’t really know  _ what,  _ but it’s worth contacting Tommy to find out.    
  
Dan grabs some tissues from the nightstand and cleans himself off as best he can, then goes over to the bathroom to get a washcloth and properly clean up. His legs shake a little as he stands - he came  _ really  _ fucking hard.    
  
Once he returns to the bed, he grabs his phone and exits out of the porn video, still playing in his headphones. He calls Tommy and waits.    
  
“Hello?” Tommy’s voice sounds rough and low. Dan probably woke him up.    
  
“Hey, uh.” Dan clears his throat and tries to sound casual. “Did - did anything weird happen for you, um, in the bond, just now?” The more Dan thinks about it, the more he’s sure it was Tommy. It felt like there was a rush through the house they’re supposed to share, like somebody opened up all of the windows so the curtains billowed around.    
  
Or maybe Dan’s just imagining all of that. “Uh, I don’t… I don’t think so, everything seems normal on my end. Did… did something happen?” There’s a shifting noise over the phone.    
  
“No, nothing big. I just - I felt something.” Dan takes a deep breath. He’s overreacting. “Not a big deal. Maybe I felt you sneeze or something like that.” That’s definitely not what he felt, but it’s also late at night and he’s just now realizing that maybe he shouldn’t have called Tommy about this at all.    
  
“Maybe. Um, if you felt something weird…” Tommy trails off.    
  
“Don’t worry about it. It’s really nothing.” Dan actually waves his hand to brush it off, even though Tommy’s not in the room.    
  
“You sure?”    
  
“I’m sure.”    
  
“Okay.”    
  
“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Goodnight, Tommy.”    
  
“‘Night, Dan.” Tommy shifts a bit again, breathing into the microphone, and then the line goes silent.    
  
Dan lies back in bed and stares at the ceiling.    
  
Tommy says nothing happened. Did it only happen on Dan’s end? Did he imagine it? Did Tommy sense that he was jerking off? 

The idea makes his heart race, but not out of fear or discomfort. Instead, it comes from an emotion he either can’t or won’t name. An indefinable kind of… something.   
  
Dan takes a deep breath and then sits up so he can pull down the covers and get ready for bed. He’s flying to Delaware instead of Los Angeles for a speaking event, but he’ll probably catch Tommy in the lobby downstairs before he leaves.    
  
He wonders if in the cold light of day, Tommy’s voice will sound anything like the voice he heard in the back of his mind, the one that could have been real or imagined.    
  
_ Hello.  _ _   
_ _   
_ \---

Philadelphia really is the absolute worst place in the world to have a panic attack.    
  
Of course, it’s not as if Dan  _ planned  _ to have it there. It’s just where the speaking event happened to be this month (thanks, UPenn! Go Quakers!), and in order for Jon to get back to Los Angeles in time to surprise Emily, they needed to take a very late flight out of Pennsylvania, leaving them with several hours of absolutely nothing to do. Jon gave some bullshit excuse as to why they couldn’t just go home immediately after the event was over, but neither Dan nor anybody else called him out on it, solely because Jon just seemed so excited to surprise his wife on Valentine’s Day. 

This meant that they all had several hours to spare on the outskirts of Philadelphia, so Travis suggested they all go to the movies. Why not? 

Dan had been doing fine for most of it. It was some nonsense period piece; something about organized crime and the opium trade in China. Lots of people in weird suits and a woman dressed up as a Christian missionary. He had been watching aimlessly, mostly daydreaming, when one particular scene caught his attention. There had been a gunfight, and while Dan had tensed up at some of the noise, he’d generally been fine.    
  
Then there was this image, of one of the characters getting shot. He fell to the floor, blue eyes staring up into the camera, and a pool of blood had slowly grown underneath him, by his head.    
  
And Dan just… couldn’t take it. Something about those lifeless eyes and the way the pool of blood had inched out, further and further on the tile…    
  
Dan had managed to get up and out of his chair by the time his fingertips started going numb. Jon had given him a funny look but he was already past him, walking as fast as he could out into the streetlight-lit chill of the early evening.    
  
Now, he’s sitting on a bench, his head in his hands, trying to remember how to breathe.    
  
_ That stupid fucking pizza place, and the lights kept humming, and you could see Tommy’s blood fill up the little cracks in the tile on the floor, and he was shaking, and he looked so small, he’s supposed to be big and strong but he looked so small on the floor, and he tasted like iron, you did nothing to help, you had to sit and wait for the ambulance, blood in your mouth and pooling underneath him - _

Dan can feel his heart racing. He feels sweaty all over, his chest tight. There’s a roaring in his ears that is only compounded by the wind whipping around him. A sense of terror is washing over him, telling him that he needs to do  _ something,  _ run  _ somewhere,  _ anything to get out of whatever horrible situation he’s in.    
  
He tells himself that nothing’s wrong, there isn’t a problem, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He feels useless, small, and can’t help the feeling that death is all around him and there’s nothing he can do about it.    
  
Dan’s never been much of a crier, but tears spring up in his eyes, spilling over his cheeks. He wipes them away and tries once again to breathe.    
  
_ Did you think you could forget? Did you think you could let it go? Isn’t that cheap, to pretend like you could forget the worst thing you’ve ever seen?  _

Dan closes his eyes and all he sees is that pool of blood growing under Tommy’s body. He can’t breathe, he can’t fucking breathe, he’s going to die, Tommy’s going to die, Tommy -    
  
Tommy’s right next to him. Just like that - how did he know where Dan was? Fuck, did Dan make that much of a scene? Did he transmit it through the bond? 

_ The bond, the bond, iron in your mouth, you robbed him of a soulmate, you took away his joy - _   
  
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here,” Tommy says. Dan can barely see him; he can’t move a muscle or he’ll fly apart, and that includes removing his hands from his face.    
  
“I’m sorry,” Dan mumbles, his head between his knees. “I’m sorry, just - the - the shooting, and the blood, I - I’m sorry -”    
  
“It’s okay. I’m right here.” Tommy’s voice is smooth and clear and soothing. Dan feels Tommy’s hand on his back, first a steady presence, then rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. “I’m right here.”    
  
Dan focuses on the words. Tommy is here, present. “You’re right here,” Dan croaks, removing his hands from his face. He imagines he must look wrecked.    
  
“I’m here, Dan,” Tommy says quietly. The wind brushes past them and chills the tear tracks down Dan’s cheek. “I’m here. I’m alive.”    
  
Dan didn’t know that’s what he needed to hear, but now that Tommy’s said it, it feels like a soothing balm on a burn. Tommy’s alive, Tommy’s alive, they got out of that stupid fucking pizza place, the bullet didn’t take him, Tommy’s alive and right next to him and Dan is so fucking grateful for that.    
  
He looks up and sees Tommy looking down at him, blue eyes blazing with concern, blond hair illuminated in a halo by the streetlight above them.    
  
“You’re alive,” Dan repeats. He swallows. His hands don’t feel numb anymore; but now they’re fucking freezing and he’s still shaking.    
  
“Yeah,” Tommy says, nodding.    
  
Somehow seeing Tommy’s face brings everything into focus. Dan feels small and pathetic, all of a sudden. Why is he freaking out? Why is he the one so upset? He didn’t get hurt. All he did was bite one of his friends who didn’t even ask for it. Why is he acting like such a child? Why is he -    
  
Fresh tears pool in his eyes. He doesn’t think he’s cried this much since he was a little kid. What is happening to him?    
  
“Hey, look at me.” Tommy shifts, crouching down in front of where Dan’s sitting. “I’m right here. I’m alive. It’s okay.”    
  
Dan opens his mouth to speak - to say what? To argue? To scream? To say he’s sorry? - but before he can say anything Tommy takes his hand and puts it on his own chest, covering it with his own, right over where his heart beats.    
  
“Feel that?” Tommy says. “I’m alive. I’m right here, with you. It’s you and me.” 

Dan stares, lips parted, at the sight of Tommy’s hand covering his own. He can feel Tommy’s heart, a steady metronome under his palm, through his shirt.    
  
“You and me,” Dan whispers. He suddenly feels as though nothing else in the world matters right now, except the steady pace of Tommy’s heart and the steady pierce of his big blue eyes.    
  
“Exactly,” Tommy nods. His thumb brushes over the back of Dan’s hand, rubbing over his knuckles. “You’re safe. We’re both safe.”    
  
Dan nods. He feels like he’s emerging from a very bad dream.    
  
He blinks, and sees Tommy’s brow furrow further in worry.    
  
“I need -” Goddamn it, it’s so fucking hard to talk. “I need -”    
  
“Tell me,” Tommy says, nodding. “Take your time.”    


But Dan can’t talk. The words are all lodged in his throat. Instead, his hand seems to move of its own accord, sliding up, over the broad expanse of Tommy’s chest. Tommy lifts his own hand, confused, waiting for Dan’s cue.  
  
It comes back down and skin meets skin again as Dan’s fingertips stop at Tommy’s bondmark, clear and ever noticeable on his neck. Tommy’s fingertips are cold over Dan’s; Dan can feel the tiniest shift in Tommy’s movements.

Tommy’s lips part in surprise, then in sudden understanding. He keeps his hand on top of Dan’s, the two of them reminding themselves of the small mark that connects their souls. 

They have a home together, in their minds. They can walk around in it and slam doors and open windows all they want, but their pathways will always lead to the same place. They’ll always meet up eventually.    
  
Tommy is warm and safe and secure. His eyes are clear and focused. He’s whole; Dan felt his heart beat. He’s with Dan - Dan can feel the bondmark he put there.    
  
They stay there like that for some time; it could be minutes or hours. Dan doesn’t notice.    
  
Eventually the cold catches up to them. Dan swallows and blinks, feeling a little like he’s come out of a trance. He pulls his hand away; Tommy’s fingertips press against the back of his hand before they’re gone.    
  
“Are you okay?” Tommy asks.    


“I… I think I will be,” Dan answers.    
  
They’re quiet for about a minute.    
  
“I… I think I just…” Dan sits up straighter and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I just - I freaked out for a second, there. I don’t know what happened.”    
  
Tommy nods and moves back up, turning so he can sit back down on the bench. “It’s okay,” he responds. “I do that, sometimes, too. Was it the movie?”    
  
Dan nods.    
  
“Yeah, it was a lot.”    
  
Dan takes a few more deep breaths. “We should, um.” He looks out over the parking lot. “We should go back inside.”   
  
“Do you want to?” Tommy asks.    
  
It takes surprisingly little time for Dan to say, “No.” He clarifies by saying, “Just… would rather not feel like shit a second time.”    
  
“That’s fine,” Tommy says. Dan sees him quickly take out his phone and write a text, probably to Jon. “We don’t have to go back.” 

Dan swallows. “Good.”

There’s a strange mixture of emotions swirling around inside him. On one hand he feels exhausted; but on the other he has so much energy he can barely think straight. How is that possible?   
  
Tommy looks out at the parking lot and takes a deep breath. It’s really fucking cold, now that Dan can actually feel the weather; he can see Tommy’s breath fog up in front of him.    
  
Tommy turns to face him, one leg coming up to rest on the bench. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”    
  
Dan raises his eyebrows. The question has completely caught him off guard. “Um, I don’t know. Why?”    
  
Tommy shrugs. “We have a rental car. We can go for a drive.”    
  
“A - a drive?”    
  
“Yeah, just drive around. It’s too cold to walk and Jon and Lovett and Travis took an Uber here anyway.”    
  
Dan thinks about it for a moment. “Anywhere?”    
  
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Tommy says. He sounds incredibly reassuring.   
  
“What if I said Hawaii?” Dan jokes. 

“... Okay, I can’t do that. How about anywhere within the greater Philadelphia area.”    
  
Dan chuckles and leans back, tilting his face up and blinking at the streetlight. “Um,” he says, “I think - there, uh, there’s this field that my dad took me to, once, this scenic point - it can’t be more than a few miles away. I’m not saying we have to get out and look, we can just drive past -”    
  
“We can get out and look if you want -”    
  
“But I think you can see the stars there.” Dan’s voice trails off at the end of the sentence. It sounds incredibly stupid and sentimental now that he’s said it out loud.    


Judging by Tommy’s expression changing, he’s noticed that, too. Dan could be embarrassed, but he doesn’t really have the capacity to freak out about anything else tonight.    
  
A tiny hint of a smile crosses Tommy’s face.    
  
“We can definitely do that. You pull it up on your phone.” He stands and holds out his hand to pull Dan to his feet. “I’ll drive.” 

And so they do. They spend a few moments peering over Google Maps on Tommy’s phone, their foreheads nearly knocking into each other, and then they set off, the thin sheen of frost on the windshield melting away immediately.    
  
Buildings and neighborhoods begin to fade away, until their little grey Toyota is swallowed up by suburbia. Then the sidewalks disappear too, and Dan sees the rolling hills and empty farmlands he remembers from way, way back in his childhood.    
  
“I’m sorry I’m forcing you to take trips down my own memory lane,” Dan jokes, self-deprecating. 

Tommy shakes his head in a  _ don’t worry about it  _ motion, his nose scrunching up slightly. “Your nostalgia is my new experience,” he replies.    
  
Dan looks out over the vast expanse of one stretch of farmland. There’s a house way in the distance, four yellow squares indicating the presence of a family inside.    
  
“Do you want to turn on the radio?” Tommy asks. Dan nods and leans over to see if the car has satellite. 

  
“We’ll just have to channel surf, it looks like,” Dan remarks after a moment of fussing with the touchscreen. “I hope you don’t mind if I’m picky.”    
  
“Dan, I’ve known you for over a decade - if I minded I would have said something by now.” Tommy knows how to communicate honesty in a way that strikes deep at a person’s core. Dan knows Tommy’s a very good liar; what’s the opposite of that? What is the word for the skill someone has where they can effortlessly convey sincerity? 

Dan fiddles with the radio and finds a pop station. The two men listen for a moment as the next song comes up after a commercial.    
  
_ You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset… _

Tommy begins to tap at the steering wheel before he notices Dan’s expression of distaste. “Not a fan? Emily loves that song.”    
  
“A bit saccharine for my taste.” Not that Dan would fault anyone for liking it. Didn’t Paul McCartney ask what was wrong with silly love songs?    
  
“You can change it,” Tommy says amiably. “Maybe there’s a classic rock station?”    
  
Dan presses the button to change the station a couple of times, skipping over sports radio and a jazz station. When he stops, the song is already partway through. 

_ Hey you with the pretty face / Welcome to the human race / a celebration, Mr. Blue Sky’s up there waitin’... _

“Ugh, no thank you,” Dan says, moving to change the channel again, but Tommy stops him.    
  
“You don’t like ELO?” he asks. Even with Tommy looking ahead, Dan can see the glint of curiosity in his eyes.    
  
“No, I do, I just - not this song in particular. Just have bad memories associated with it.”  _ It was playing while we were waiting for you to wake up in the hospital.  _ Dan isn’t traumatized by this particular memory of Tommy getting shot, he’s just annoyed by it.   
  
“You gotta hear it with the rest of the album, though,” Tommy insists. “With the whole - all of the sad songs that come before it, Big Wheels and Standin’ in the Rain - it’s fantastic, it’s like the sun comes out at the end.”    
  
“Or the stars,” Dan comments, tilting his head towards the window.    
  
“Right. It’s like - it’s the ultimate  _ things get better  _ song. But I can see why we might not want to listen to it at night in the cold.”

Dan leans his elbow against the car door. “I didn’t know you were so into music, and, like, lyrics, and analysis.”    
  
Tommy rolls his eyes. “Everyone’s into music.”    
  
_ No, they’re not,  _ Dan thinks. He files away this new piece of information into the ever expanding folder marked  _ Tommy  _ in his brain.

Tommy moves to change the station this time, rapidly skipping over two stations to one that’s momentarily quiet.    
  
Then, a very recognizable guitar riff begins. 

_ I've been really tryin', baby / Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long... _

“ _ No,”  _ both Dan and Tommy say in unison. They giggle at each other, and at the absurdity of two men with a platonic relationship listening to Marvin Gaye croon about sexual liberation while on a drive through the outskirts of Amish Pennsylvania. 

Granted, the song that Dan eventually settles upon after changing the channel is just as rife with innuendo, but it’s a bit easier to swallow.    
  
_ What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man… _

Dan looks away from the midnight blue shades on the horizon and glances over at Tommy, following the line of his arm down to where their hands are right next to each other on the console.    
  
Slowly, shyly, he inches his hand closer, just a little bit, until their pinkies are touching.    
  
Tommy looks away from the road for just a second, and Dan feels his heart skip a beat.  _ Is this okay?  _ He asks with his eyes.    
  
Tommy smiles back at him, soft, coy. He turns back to face the road, rolling his shoulders back slightly, relaxing. His hand stays next to Dan’s, their pinkies still touching.    
  
Maybe Dan was wrong, earlier, to think of them as two men in a platonic relationship. This isn’t romantic, certainly not - Tommy is straight and Dan wouldn’t be a contender even if he weren’t - but the word  _ platonic  _ doesn’t feel like a good descriptor, anymore. They’re so much more than friends. To call them otherwise would be doing them a disservice.    
  
Is there a word for what they are, now? Now that Tommy has helped Dan recover from the point of panic, and Dan has felt his heart beat?    
  
Tommy’s hand moves a little so his pinky is covering Dan’s. Dan leans over to look out his window, seeing the stars twinkle overhead. 

Maybe he doesn’t need to know the word for it, right at this moment. Maybe he can just enjoy the feeling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The songs were, in order: You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift, Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra, Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye, and Whatta Man by Salt N Pepa.   
2\. Many thanks to fizzy, as always, for beta-ing.


	9. On Weddings, and CNN

It seems that there is nothing that Jon, Jon and Tommy cannot do once they put their minds to it. Help manage one of the most effective and progressive presidential administrations of all time? Check. Create a successful media company that has the potential to rival Fox News as a bastion of both liberal thought and educational entertainment? Check. Manage a three-way codependent relationship that doesn’t seem destined to collapse in a scandal worthy of whatever dimestore novel happens to be sitting next to Ronan Farrow’s latest book? Somehow, they’ve managed to pull it off.    
  
But  _ matchmaking?  _ Even Dan is impressed this time. It’s not easy to take over Cupid’s job. But it seems Favreau, Lovett, and Vietor have it down to a science.    
  
It’s a Crooked Wedding!    
  
Okay, maybe that’s stretching it a bit. Cassie and Michael weren't set up by the guys, per se, but if Cassie’s brother hadn’t become one of the President’s speechwriters during his reelection campaign, then he never would have met Jon, and thus he wouldn’t have mentioned the Ringer to Cassie when she was looking for a job at a media company. If Cassie hadn’t been working at the Ringer in 2015, then she never would have met Tommy, who decided to call her before he called other applicants when he was hiring staffers for Pod Save the World. If Cassie hadn’t then gone on to work at Crooked, she never would have met Michael, who was an assistant producer for Lovett or Leave It for a time before Elijah arrived. Had they never met, they never would have fallen in love, and there would be no Crooked Wedding.    
  
Of course, Dan knows none of these people. But everybody in the office was invited, and he’d feel like a jerk for not RSVP-ing when he knows damn well he doesn’t have anything better to do.    
  
The party is good. There’s a live band, and dancing, and miniature cheeseburgers on toothpicks. Just how do they get them so small? Are pigs in a blanket out of fashion now? These are the questions with which Dan amuses himself in the auditorium of the former Victorian-girls’-school-turned-hotel where the reception is taking place. 

Dan didn’t have a big wedding, with Sarah. It had been full of friends and family, sure, but he doesn’t think he invited many coworkers. He certainly didn’t invite his whole office, or his boss. But Cassie is such a bright ray of sunshine that maybe she’s just friends with everyone she meets. Dan likes her just fine, she seemed perfectly nice in the half dozen times he's ever spoken to her.   
  
Taking another sip of his beer, Dan looks out over the dance floor. Jon and Emily are in the middle of it, dancing around like they’re twenty years old and have enough energy to power the whole of Los Angeles. It’s pretty cute; Dan passed by them earlier and heard Jon say  _ I love being your husband  _ in Emily’s ear. It probably had been meant as a private comment, but the band is so loud that everything said quietly must be yelled over the music.    
  
_ The Shareef don’t like it/ Rock the casbah, rock the casbah/the Shareef don’t like it… _

“I always get this song confused with ‘Love Shack’,” a voice says from behind Dan’s left shoulder. He turns and sees Ronan Farrow, perfectly styled as always in his sleek tux and with just the right amount of product in his hair.    
  
“I mean, they each have a chorus consisting mostly of yelling. And they cover similar topics.”   
  
“ _ Are _ they about similar topics?” Ronan asks. He takes a sip of his drink; Dan can’t tell what it is but it looks like what Don Draper drinks on Mad Men. 

“Well, they’re both about secluded places that jump around because of the music being played.”    
  
“Are they?” Ronan looks a little skeptical.   
  
“A  _ casbah  _ is a fortress in a North African city.”    
  
“No, I mean, I’m pretty sure that music is not the reason the Love Shack is jumping around.”    
  
“... Ah.” Dan nods in understanding, allowing a smile to creep across his face. “Well, I suppose I just assumed that there was also dancing in the Love Shack.”    
  
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”    
  
“Ronan,” Dan says with a wry smile, “why did you come over here?”    
  
“I can’t just talk with a close friend of my bondmate? I talk to all sorts of people.” He gestures around the room. “I’ve talked to Jon and Tommy.”    
  
“I’m not Jon or Tommy.” Dan knows that he’s not in the small, intimate circle of friendship that Favs, Tommy, and Lovett have created. He also knows that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean that they love him any less than they love each other. 

“Okay, well, in truth… I’m on assignment.”    
  
“I’m pretty sure your cover’s blown,” Dan parries. “What assignment?”    
  
“A certain podcaster sent me over to make sure you’re okay.”    
  
Dan looks over at the far edge of the room, where Lovett is busy making at least half a dozen people laugh. He tends to do that; people gather around him like moths to a flame. 

“And he couldn’t come over and check on me himself?”    
  
“I got the impression that doing so would violate some sort of Bro Code.” Ronan downs the rest of his drink and swallows the ice cube in one gulp. “But, you  _ do  _ know he cares about you, right?”    
  
“Of course I know that.” Dan and Lovett like to joke about how they never agree with each other and only interact when necessary, but there’s never been any real bite to it. Lovett and Dan care for each other deeply; they’re just not very touchy-feely about it. He understands any confusion from an outsider, though; when compared to the wellspring of open affection that is Jon Favreau, being "not touchy-feely" can appear positively frigid.

“So, are you okay?” 

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”    
  
“You’re a single guy attending a wedding alone, and you’ve been going through some stuff lately.”   
  
Dan rolls his eyes. In truth, he is going through some ‘stuff’, but it’s hardly the doom and gloom that Ronan’s tone suggests. He’s been a bit quiet throughout the last month, yes, but it isn’t because he’s depressed or hurt; his mood is fine. He’s just been… more introspective. He has a lot on his mind.    
  
Very soon there’s going to be an election in America; the country is going to take stock of what’s important to it. Dan feels that maybe he should do the same.    
  
As for being single… “I’m fine, Ronan,” Dan says with a smile. “Really, I mean it. Thank you for inquiring, though.”    
  
“You sure you don’t want me to drag you onto the dance floor? It would be very dramatic and cute.”    
  
“I think the bride and the groom have that covered, but thank you.”    
  
Ronan smiles, relieved. “I’ll leave you to your observations, then. Bondmate’s calling.” Briefly touching the mark on the back of his neck with one hand, he raises his glass to Dan with the other and begins to walk away.    
  
Dan pauses, realizing something. “Hey wait a second!” He calls out to Ronan. The music has started to pick up again, forcing him to raise his voice. “Tommy’s single, too! Why aren’t you shepherding him!”    
  
Ronan just laughs. “I thought that was your job!”    
  
He disappears into the crowd, and Dan sighs and finishes his beer.    
  
The night continues in a haze of music and high spirits. Dan gets a chance to personally wish the bride and groom well, and in return he receives a warm hug from Cassie and a strong clap on the shoulder from Michael. At one point Emily comes over and tries to convince him to dance with her; he obliges, but only for one song, and only because he used to have a crush on her and still gets a fluttery feeling in his chest whenever she smiles at him. (Sue him, he likes blondes.)    
  
As he’s thinking about maybe joining Ben outside for a cigarette (not really his thing but his head is starting to hurt from the music), a pretty impressive guitar solo booms out of the speakers on the stage. Dan turns and sees Henry, Cassie’s brother and a groomsman of the party, tearing his way through the notes of whatever pop-punk song Cassie put on the setlist. 

Dan looks over Henry’s figure, noting the necktie draped around his collar, the long hair pulled into a ponytail, the  _ This Machine Kills Fascists  _ sticker on his guitar.    
  
Henry looks up, coming out of his guitar-solo induced reverie, and sees Dan watching.    
  
Dan nods at him.    
  
He smiles a little and nods back, rocking his hips with the beat.    
  
Dan nods his head to the rhythm, unable to really take his eyes away from Henry. He’s good looking, if you’re into that sort of thing. He’s tall and lanky. Dan can’t remember much about him, but he does remember that he used to go out with Jon and Tommy a lot, back when those two did as much partying as policymaking.    
  
Henry grins at him; Dan isn’t a scholar of nonverbal communication, but is the grin a bit… flirtatious?    
  
Well, why shouldn’t it be? It is a wedding, after all. Don’t people get together at other people’s weddings? Isn’t that the whole thing with the groomsmen and the bridesmaids?    
  
Okay, maybe this isn’t exactly the same thing, but - there could be flirting. 

Dan gives a flirtatious smile back, or at least his best version of one. 

Henry rocks his head to get a stray strand of hair out of his face. When he moves, Dan is almost sure he sees him wink.    
  
Is something happening here?    
  
Dan raises his hand and waves a little, wondering if maybe his suit is nicer on him than he thought. He can still... get it, right? He could get an interested look from a cute guitarist. Maybe he wouldn’t be interested back, but... if they’re just in Southern California for one night... 

It’s then that a tall body brushes past him and he realizes Henry has been looking at Tommy the whole time.

Dan lowers his hand, face burning with embarrassment.  _ Always the bridesmaid, indeed.  _ What was he thinking?    
  
He discreetly sits down at a nearby table and hopes that no one else noticed his brief moment of idiocy, especially not Tommy. In fact, how strong is his mental block right now? Does alcohol affect his ability to keep his thoughts to himself? He’ll have to ask Tommy sometime. 

The band switches to a slower song and Henry lifts the guitar strap over his shoulders, placing the instrument back on its stand. He hops down from the stage and goes over to Tommy, who just so happens to be just a few feet away from Dan. 

“It’s good to see you, man,” Tommy says, greeting Henry with a quick hug.    
  
“It’s good to see you, too - I’ll be honest, for a moment I wondered whether you’d come at all.”    
  
“What, and get the evil eye from your sister? Hell no.” Tommy grins and rocks back on his heels.    
  
“Still, it takes some guts to go to the same wedding your ex is at,” Henry points out. 

Dan freezes, suddenly wishing that the music was at least ten times softer. What did Henry just say?    
  
“It’s not a big deal,” Tommy replies.    
  
_ He must’ve meant Cassie. Did Tommy and Cassie date? Cassie’s way too young, and they don’t even seem close -  _

“It could be - we could make it awkward.” Henry grins. He has a silver earring in his right ear.    
  
“I think  _ you  _ are making it awkward just by saying that,” Tommy says. “But, all things considered, you are by far the ex I would most want to see at a wedding.”    
  
_ Holy shit.  _

“I’m glad to hear that,” Henry says. His smile is warm and amiable; it does nothing to melt the ice water running through Dan’s veins. “I heard what happened to you, a while back. I’m glad to see you’re okay, dude. I was worried about you.”    
  
“Thanks, man.” Tommy shuffles his feet a little. “That means a lot.”    
  
They both stand in silence for a moment, leaving nothing but roaring in Dan’s ears.    
  
“I’ll let you go,” Henry says finally. “I promised my sister I’d play all her favorite songs.”   
  
“Are any of those from a year other than 2006?” Tommy asks, lips quirking up in a smile.    
  
“Absolutely not. See ya later, man.” Henry claps Tommy on the shoulder and then heads back up onto the little stage where the band is playing, grabbing his guitar once again.    
  
Tommy stands there for a minute, nodding along to the music. Then he turns around -    
  
And sees Dan behind him.    
  
“Dan,” Tommy says.    
  
“Hi,” Dan replies. He’s still sitting. His legs feel like lead. His whole body feels like it could crash through the floor.    
  
“You… you’ve been sitting there.” Tommy’s voice is hard to hear as the music gets louder, but Dan can still see the dread in his eyes.   
  
Dan just nods, wincing at the volume of the music. He doesn’t recognize this song; it’s nothing he’s ever heard before.    
  
Tommy swallows and just looks at him for what feels like an eternity. “I”m going to… go get very drunk.”    
  
Dan raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t really have a response.    
  
Tommy points back with his thumb across the room, and then turns on his heel and walks away.    
  
Dan stands, wobbly on his feet. He takes a few deep breaths.    
_   
_ _ What the fuck just happened?! _

He needs to regroup. He needs to go over what he knows in his mind. Fuck, he needs a - a fucking iPad and a charger so he can get his thoughts in order.    
  
Okay.    
  
Tommy and Henry are exes.    
  
Tommy and Henry dated at some point in the past. (That’s what ex means.)    
  
Tommy and Henry are both men.    
  
At some point, Tommy has dated a man.    
  
Tommy is someone who is attracted to men.    
  
Dan must be losing his mind.    
  
How did he miss this? Was this obvious, and he just missed it? Is Tommy bisexual? Gay? Was this just a phase for him? How long did this relationship last? Is Henry the only guy Tommy’s dated? How serious was the relationship? When was this? Why did they break up? Did this have anything to do with Tommy’s move to California? Is Tommy ashamed of his past, or has he just not mentioned it? Was Dan expected to know this already? Did Tommy ever plan on telling him? Is Tommy even  _ out?  _ Does his mom know he dated a guy? Does Jon know? Does  _ Lovett  _ know? What else does Dan not know about Tommy? Does Dan even know Tommy at all?    
  
Is Tommy going to hate him for knowing this?   


Dan didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Okay, he sort of did, but he didn’t mean to eavesdrop on  _ this.  _ He eavesdropped in the same way one eavesdrops on the people sitting next to you on a plane. He listened in on them in the same way one listens in on music coming from another room. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.    
  
Tommy has dated men. In some form or another, perhaps only in the past and perhaps also in the present, Tommy isn’t completely straight.    
  
Dan stands up from his chair and looks for the exit sign in the auditorium. He needs some fresh air.    
  
Outside, the air is crisp and clean, as cool as it can get on the West Coast. Dan tilts his head back and looks towards the darkness of the sky, seeking out wisdom amongst the stars.    
  
There aren’t many stars to speak of. Light pollution is probably getting in the way.    
  
If this were a movie, Dan would meet someone outside of the building. Maybe he’d have a meaningful conversation with them, and they’d talk about the universe. He’d try to explain his situation with Tommy without saying too much, and the person would nod, knowing something he doesn’t. Maybe offering a grain of insight. He’d be left with a sense of peace, feeling like at least some aspect of his life made sense.    
  
But there’s no one that Dan meets on his little walk. It’s just him and the trees and the grass and the muffled but steady din of music coming from the hotel, its windows glowing like a beacon behind him the further he goes.    
  
He doesn’t know how long he walks. It’s been ages since he’s gone somewhere without looking at his phone once every few minutes. He should work on that. It’s probably not good for his attention span, or his eyesight, for that matter.    
  
It must be a significant amount of time, because when he returns, cupcakes have already been passed out and the room is slightly emptier, probably because the older guests have all gone to bed.    
  
Dan scans the room for Tommy, but doesn’t find him on the dance floor, or hovering on the outside of the crowd. Maybe he’s gone upstairs to bed; this is a hotel, after all.    
  
Dan stands around in the room for a little bit without anything to do before he decides it’s late enough that he can duck out. He manages to catch the bride and wave goodbye before stepping into the relative quiet of the lobby. It’s nearly deserted at this hour.    
  
Except - no, it’s not, because Tommy is standing in the hallway leading to the elevators, leaning against the wall.    
  
“Hey there, Pfeiffer,” Tommy calls. Dan walks up to him cautiously, like he’s approaching a dangerous animal. But Tommy doesn’t look particularly hostile. On the contrary, he has an easy smile on his face. He’s drunk.    
  
“You’re drunk,” Dan says. Tommy raises his faintly discernible eyebrows.    
  
“An astute observation,” he replies. “Observe anything else tonight,  _ Daaan _ ?” His eyes, usually clear and bright blue, look fuzzy and unfocused. 

Dan swallows. “Look, I wasn’t - I just overheard. I didn’t mean to -”    
  
“No, I get it,” Tommy cuts him off. “You were just at the right place at the right time.” His gaze drags over Dan lazily. “You do that a lot.”    
  
Dan frowns. “What does that mean?”    
  
“It means I’m drunk, Dan.” Tommy shrugs. “You said so yourself.” His tie is nowhere to be found on his person. His first two buttons are undone.    
  
“Does Jon know where you are?”    
  
“I am not my brother’s keeper.” Tommy shakes his head a little, like Dan’s stupid for even asking.    
  
Dan chooses to ignore how that phrase doesn’t really apply, here. “You’re pretty wasted. You should go to bed.”    
  
“ _ You _ should actually talk to me, Dan.”    
  
Dan blinks. What? “I am talking to you.”    
  
“No you’re not. You’re talking, but you’re not  _ sayiiiiing... _ anything.” Tommy closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them again. “Say what you want to say.”    
  
Dan’s tongue feels thick in his mouth. “You dated Henry,” he says.    
  
Tommy nods. “I did.”    


“You’ve dated other men,” Dan guesses.    
  
Tommy grins. “I have.” 

“Are you gay?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes. “There’s a  _ B _ in L-G-B-T, Dan. It stands for bi.”    
  
Oh, wow. “You never mentioned it.”    
  
“It also stands foooor… no one’s  _ business.”  _

Well now Dan really feels like shit. “Sorry.” He flexes his fingers, looking away briefly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”    
  
Tommy rolls his eyes and giggles. “ _ Relax.  _ Jon knows. Lovett… kind of knows. You’re overthinking it. You do that a lot.” He sighs. “You’re always  _ thinking.”  _

Tommy’s words sting despite their lack of heat or real malice. “I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable. We don’t need to talk about it again. It doesn’t make a difference anyway.” Dan recognizes that there’s a certain futility in saying these things to Tommy while he’s wasted, but on the off chance that Tommy remembers a word of this conversation tomorrow, Dan needs to make sure he hasn’t cemented his position in Tommy’s brain as Number One Asshole.    
  
Even if that’s what he is. 

“It’s  _ okay  _ if it makes a difference, Dan,” Tommy declares. “I mean… now… now you know my  _ secret.”  _

Dan doesn’t feel particularly triumphant about learning this information. He doesn’t say anything; he just stands there like an idiot.    
  
Tommy slides off the wall like he has to peel himself off it; he steps far too close to Dan, close enough that Dan can smell the whiskey on his breath. Dan starts to sweat; the proximity is unfamiliar in this context. Tommy’s been close to him before but it hasn’t been like this. Tommy’s always good looking, and it always comes off as slightly intimidating, but it hasn’t been like this. Dan could count each one of his gold eyelashes, could tally each one of the freckles on the bridge of his nose.

_ “Got any secrets for me, Pfeiffer?”  _ Tommy’s voice is barely above a whisper. 

Dan steps back like he’s been slapped. Tommy’s eyes are far too knowing, even clouded with drunkenness. He’s looking right through Dan, straight to a part of his soul Dan has refused to even acknowledge for over a decade. 

The part of his soul that prompted him to wave at Henry. The part of his soul that made his brother wonder what Tommy was, to him. The part of his soul that is real, and present, and that Dan has been pushing aside for a long time.

“You’re really drunk,” Dan says, voice tight. He doesn’t know if he’s saying it to Tommy or himself.    
  
Tommy just tilts his head a little bit, still smiling angelically. As if he's looking right through Dan and seeing only the best parts.   
  
“You need - you need to go to bed,” Dan continues. He needs to get some control over this conversation. “What room number are you? I’ll come check up on you in the morning.” They’re both going to be hungover as hell, but at least this way Dan can make sure Tommy didn’t drown in the bathtub, or something.    
  
Tommy’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, it gets softer, more sincere. “Will you?” His tone is gentle. 

Dan doesn’t know what’s going on. He just needs this night to end. With no drama of any kind. “Of course I will.”    
  
“Three-oh-three,  _ Daaaan _ .” Tommy sways a little. 

“I need to see you get in the elevator so I know you went upstairs.” The last thing Tommy needs is to wake up on the floor of the hallway tomorrow morning, the carpet leaving lines all over his cheek.    
  
“Okay.” Tommy turns and stumbles a little, but then balances himself, waving Dan off as he holds out a hand for support. He presses the elevator button, and then presses it again for good measure.    
  
The doors open, and Tommy steps in. Dan watches him take a breath, his shoulders shifting underneath his shirt. Then he turns around.

Dan looks at his feet. For a brief moment, he wants to let down the bond. Just so he can ask Tommy if they’re okay. He needs to know they’re okay.    
  
“Dan,” Tommy says.    
  
Dan looks up; as the doors close, he sees Tommy raise his hand up to his neck, his fingers resting on the mark Dan left on his skin so many months ago.    
  
\---

“You’re killing it, Dan.”    


“Killing what?” Dan shifts his phone to his right hand as he weaves in between fellow pedestrians on the sidewalk. Underneath his feet, the subway rumbles as it moves below the concrete. 

“The game, Dan. You’re killing the game.” Susan sounds insistent.    
  
“And what game is that?” Dan is having a good time talking to Susan. At the very least, it’s distracting him from what feels like the bitter cold of New York in March. How did he live in the northeast for so long? He misses the warmth of L.A.    
  
“The punditry game. The political strategist game. The activist game. Need I continue?”    
  
“Please do, I’m hoping you’ll eventually get to professional basketball.” Dan looks up at the frankly intimidating structure of the new CNN building and squints as the glare from the glass hits his eyes. After making sure he’s in the right place, he pushes the glass door open and welcomes the rush of warm air that comes with it.    
  
“Dan, you’re killing a lot of games, but I don’t think professional basketball is viable for you as a future career.”    
  
“And here I was, planning my cereal endorsements.” Dan flashes his badge at the guy sitting at the front desk and heads to the elevators. “I’m heading into an elevator soon, so I’ll have to let you go.”    
  
“Okay - before you go, I just want to say that you’re going to knock ‘em dead today and I can’t wait to see you onscreen.” 

Dan rolls his eyes, smiling good-naturedly. “Susan, I’ve done this before, you know that, right?”    
  
“Of course I do. But you’ve never done this as part of my team before. And if I can’t give an unnecessary pep talk to my team members, Dan, then life is not worth living.” Susan pauses. “Also, if you mess up and look like a dumbass, it’s on me, so don’t mess up. Text me when you’re done the interview!”   
  
Dan’s about to reply when he hears the telltale beeping that signals Susan’s hung up on him. Why do the women in his life do that? Is saying ‘bye’ not cool anymore? Dan will have to do some more research.    
  
The elevator doors open, and he steps in.    
  
Greet the producer. Go into makeup. Get a metric ton of powder stuck to his face. Greet the host briefly. Sit in a green room for a few minutes. All of this happens with incredible ease and efficiency, something that Dan forgets about then remembers every time he enters a news studio. He’s never wanted to be a journalist, but coming here has made him miss the fast-paced energy of the White House. 

Enough to want to go back? Well… maybe he just needs to go home and rewatch West Wing or The Newsroom. 

His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Tommy.  _ Knock ‘em dead. _ Dan texts back a thumbs up emoji.   
  
“Dan, you’re up in two minutes,” the producer says from the doorway, beckoning him with one hand.    
  
Dan sits down on set in front of the cameras and lets himself get mic’d up. He takes a deep breath and faces the woman across from him.    
  
“Cold outside, isn’t it?” Melissa Lerner says, barely looking up from her notes.    
  
“Uh, yeah,” Dan replies.    
  
The lights turn towards him, and Dan faces the camera very briefly. Just as the cameras start rolling, a little voice in his head goes,  _ how many people do you think are watching this right now?  _

He chooses to ignore that voice in favor of not freaking out on national television.    


“The state of North Carolina is one step closer to passing one of the most restrictive bond-severance bills in the country. The House of Representatives voted to approve the state’s so-called ‘permanence’ bill, which would ban bond severance after a month, which is when doctors have observed that soul bonds between two people become more solidified in the brain, and emotional transference becomes more regular. Opponents say the bill would make most bond severance illegal before bondmates would even know personally how bonding manifests in their mind.”

Melissa taps her pen against her notes once. “The ACLU plans to sue if the bill becomes law, saying it is unconstitutional and an infringement upon a person’s bodily autonomy. Democrats are mobilizing in North Carolina and nationwide to protest if this bill gets signed into law - Dan Pfeiffer, former Senior Advisor to President Obama, one of the hosts of the podcast  _ Pod Save America _ , the author of  _ Yes We (Still) Can,  _ and one of the newest members of the bond rights advocacy group UNITY is with us today. Quite the resume, there. Thank you for being here, Dan.”    
  
“It’s good to be here, Melissa,” Dan replies amicably. 

“I want to get this out of the way, first, because I know it’s something people have wondered about, and it’s something you have said led you to becoming a bond rights advocate in the first place. As you wrote in an Op-ed in the  _ New York Times _ -” she holds up a piece of paper, “you have what you call an ‘unconventional bond’.”    
  
“Yes.”    
  
“You bonded with fellow Pod Save America co-host Tommy Vietor after he was shot during an attempted robbery almost a year ago.”    
  
“Yeah, it was a very spur-of-the-moment thing - I knew he needed the energy to survive and I made a split second decision to help him in the best way I knew how.”    
  
“He credits you for saving his life.”   
  
“He… says I am one of many people who saved his life, yes, but it was almost entirely the hard work of the paramedics and doctors who worked on him that made sure he’s still here,” Dan corrects gently. “I don’t want to put words in his mouth.”    
  
Neither Dan nor Tommy had wanted to sensationalize what happened in their op-ed. Still recovering from the awkwardness that comes from inadvertently learning a significant fact about a friend's sexual history during a wedding reception, they had worked on the op-ed in bits and pieces, attempting to create an argument for bondmates’ rights through their shared trauma. It had been good to work on something policy-related with Tommy - it reminded Dan what made them such good friends in the first place. Despite how much has changed in their relationship, Dan and Tommy are still the policy wonks who believed in the message and ideals of a Senator from Illinois way back in 2008. 

“Right, of course. Now, as someone who has an ‘unconventional’ bond, how do you reconcile your organization’s policy plan and the legislation they push with… the state of where you are personally?” Melissa crosses her legs and leans back a little bit in her chair.    
  
“Well,” Dan begins, “our legislative director, Susan Fox, likes to break it up into two parts, and I find this helpful when thinking about my own position: the first is that a lawmaker has to be representative of their people. While a politician can certainly have her own views on one subject or another, primarily their function is to carry out the will of the people, to listen to what they say they want. And across the board, polling shows, elections show, court cases and anecdotal evidence shows that people believe safe bond severance is a right every person should have at any time. Ninety-nine percent of the North Carolina House of Representatives is bonded, and I’m certainly very glad that they feel comfortable in their bonds, but ultimately, a state’s governing body needs to represent the will of the state, and this bill wouldn’t show that.”    
  
A soft, warm feeling starts to bloom in Dan’s chest. He takes a breath before continuing.    
  
“Secondly, I think - the choice my, uh, my bondmate and I made to ultimately not sever the bond even after he was out of the woods physically was something that he and I were able to make ourselves. The House of Representatives was not involved, nor was the Senate. We chose to keep our bond, but I don’t think either of us would presume to know the circumstances behind anyone else’s bond, or why they’d want it to be severed. To put that power into the hands of someone other than the people involved is, I believe, a - a mistake, and the wrong move by the House in North Carolina.”    
  
Melissa nods. “Did you ever discuss severing the bond with your co-host, Tommy Vietor?”

“Yeah, we did,” Dan replies, nodding. “We did.”    
  
“And what were those like, if you’d be so kind enough to share?”    
  
Dan smiles, tight. The warmth inside him spreads, and that makes it easier for his expression to soften. He’s emotional about this; that’s okay. “We did, we talked about it a few times. And I’ll fully admit, Tommy had every right to sever the bond and so did I. We decided not to, but only because we felt comfortable enough in our relationship, our friendship, to do so. And, uh…” Dan pauses, blinking. “I don’t think we would have felt that same level of comfort had there been a limitation on when we could have severed the bond. By restricting a person’s choice like that, you create a sort of - there’s a power imbalance between the two of you. What is the most important in these situations is the autonomy of each person. The, uh…” Holy shit, is he actually getting choked up right now? Now is not the time. “The equality of two people in that relationship is what takes priority. And to people who say that there’s no reason to sever a bond, that these connections are connected to God or biology or whatever it may be - my experience with bonding proved that every bond between two people is unique, and what those people do with their bond is their business. It’s certainly not the business of the government.”   
  
Melissa goes on to speak for a moment about the attention the bill’s received from activists and celebrities, and Susan Fox’s potential run for Senate. Dan is glad for a reprieve; all of a sudden he has to blink back tears.    
  
What’s happening here? He doesn’t feel particularly upset about this; but then again, these don’t feel much like his emotions. They must be coming from Tommy, through the bond.    
  
Dan hopes Tommy’s okay. It’s not… they’re not  _ negative  _ emotions. The tears that came to his eyes weren’t of sadness, or pain. But they weren’t tears of joy, either. Dan had felt… something he can’t quite describe.    
  
He answers the rest of the interview questions as efficiently as he can, and quickly gets himself de-mic’d, thanking Melissa for having him on.    
  
Once downstairs and seated in a corner of the second floor of a nearby deli, Dan texts Tommy, asking if he can facetime. While waiting for Tommy’s reply, he texts Susan.    
  
_ Thank you for encouraging me to tell my story. You helped me do a good thing today.  _ _   
_ _   
_ His phone starts vibrating and he puts on his headphones, answering Tommy’s call.    
  
“Hey there,” Tommy says. Dan recognizes the grey couches of the Crooked offices.    
  
“Hey, how’s it going?”    
  
“How’s it going with  _ me _ ? Dude, you were really great up there!”    
  
“You really think so?”    
  
“Yes, absolutely.” Tommy grins and takes a sip of his drink, something from Starbucks with a green straw. “You nailed it. You were awesome partially because I did not want to do it, and partially because you just spoke really well.”    
  
“Wow, thank you for that,” Dan chuckles. “Good to know I got the short end of the stick.”    
  
“No, no - let me be serious, then. You did really well.” Tommy’s voice is low and soft and sincere.    
  
“Um…” Dan clears his throat. “I, uh, I think I did pretty well in the first half, but - did you maybe get a little upset around the time I was up there in front of the cameras?”    
  
“Upset?” Tommy frowns. “Why would I have gotten upset?”    
  
“I don’t know, maybe you were doing something else?”    
  
“No, I was watching you on CNN,” Tommy maintains.   
  
“Well… did something I said rub you the wrong way? And maybe you just don’t want to tell me to be polite?”    
  
“No, I would be more up front about that.”    
  
“Well…” Dan shrugs. “I felt like. A big push through the bond. Like you got emotional.”    
  
It takes a moment of processing before Tommy smiles and shakes his head. “You big dummy,” he says. “I wasn’t  _ upset,  _ I was  _ proud of you.”  _

Dan raises his eyebrows in surprise. Tommy was proud of him? That’s what Dan was feeling?  _ That  _ was the emotion that nearly moved Dan to tears on national television?    
  
Dan knows that when he’s given a really nice compliment, he should just say thank you and be done with it. But sometimes his anxiety and his need to overthink things gets in the way. “Why?” He asks, sounding probably a bit more incredulous than he should for someone with pretty good self-esteem.    
  
“Why?” Tommy actually laughs a little at that. “Because you’re great, Dan. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you’re incredibly competent, and to see you transition into yet another… I don’t know,  _ chapter  _ of your career, and to do it so well, showing everyone what you’re made of - yeah, of course I’m proud of you.”    
  
Dan swallows, his heart doing a little flip in his chest. He feels…  _ valued.  _

Tommy has done so much for him. Has shown him so many different ways to look at the world and has provided him with laughter and introspection and reasons to be a better person. And all that time, it never occurred to Dan that he might be doing the same for Tommy. 

Tommy values him. Tommy is proud of him.    
  
The thought fills him with so much joy that he wants to do something to show that Tommy's respect for him and trust in him is mutual. He wants to show that he values Tommy just as much as Tommy values him. 

The words come off his tongue so easily that it doesn't even take a second thought. "Jesus, Tommy, if you flatter me any more you'll start sounding like one of my ex-boyfriends." 

Hilariously, Tommy nearly spits out whatever Starbucks drink he was sipping on. "Boyfriends?" He repeats, his eyebrows raised so high they're practically on the ceiling.

“Yeah, um…” Dan feels the rush of adrenaline course through his veins. “I had a boyfriend in college who would just go overboard when it came to compliments. Usually, uh, that meant he had broken or lost something of mine, so… if you have anything to say to me…” Dan doesn’t know why he’s saying this now. He could’ve said this anytime. But he was scared. Fuck, he’s been scared to talk about this for almost a decade. Why? It seems so easy, right now.    
  
“Sorry, Dan, I hate to break it to you, but I crashed your bike,” Tommy jokes.    
  
“Wow, thanks for that.”    
  
The two of them spend a moment smiling at each other through the camera. Dan feels light and bouncy, like he’s suddenly lost twenty pounds.    
  
“I, uh…” Tommy clears his throat, blinking a little, and rubs the back of his neck. “I should probably get back to work.”    
  
“Yeah?” Dan tilts his head. “I don’t mind talking to you.” He could talk to Tommy all day.    
  
“Do you want to come hang out after you get back? I know that I just saw you on Sunday, but…” Tommy shrugs. “We could watch West Wing or The Wire or something.”    
  
“I’d like that,” Dan responds. He can’t fight the goofy grin on his face. 

“Awesome.” Tommy grins right back at him for a moment before he once again clears his throat. “Uh, text me when you get back, okay?”    
  
“Definitely.”    
  
“Bye, Dan.”    
  
“Bye, Tommy.”    
  
Dan lingers for a moment in the deli, soaking in the warmth of the moment. Then he buttons up his coat and heads back out into the cold. 

He feels different, now, a little lighter, a little more carefree. But one thing hasn’t changed.    
  
He has  _ got  _ to get back to L.A..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to mention how gr8 @fizzy is bc she is


	10. On Pool Parties, and CVS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to @fizzy_smile, as always, for beta-ing.

You may not know it by looking at him, but Dan Pfeiffer really loves parties.    
  
He didn’t always like them. In high school and college, parties were an excuse to drink to excess, which would be fine, except Dan falls dead asleep when he drinks too much. Combine the urge to lie down and take a nap with loud music that makes it almost impossible to hear what anyone else is saying, and you have a bad party from Dan’s perspective. But as he got older things settled down a bit, and parties became less about the music or the alcohol and more about the conversation - whether it be politics or television or (his personal favorite) sports. He loves to talk, so it’s no surprise that parties became more fun.    
  
Today’s social gathering is no exception. They’re all at Jon and Emily’s house, celebrating the arrival of brighter, sweeter sunshine in the Los Angeles sky and the first blooms of springtime. The pool is open and music is playing through the Sonos as everyone mills around with their beers and glasses of rose, shoulders exposed in the warmth of April. Emily has been flitting around the backyard all afternoon, making sure everyone is hydrated and well fed and associating with people of similar sensibilities. She invited nearly all of the podcast hosts, but for the most part it’s a bunch of Jon and Emily’s friends that Dan doesn’t know, plus Lovett, Ronan, Ira, Louis, Priyanka, and Tommy.    
  
Tommy. Dan’s been thinking a lot about Tommy lately. Is that weird? He’s been thinking about Tommy for nearly a year now anyway because of how much their relationship has changed, but nowadays it feels more… conscious. Things that floated around in the back of his head are at the forefront. Ideas that he wouldn’t have dared whisper to himself, he finds himself saying out loud, or at least thinking in clear, concrete sentences. He’s started asking himself hard questions.    
  
_ Is your sexuality important enough to your identity that you think you should come out? _

_ What do you value in a friend? In a partner?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Is Tommy’s hair more of a cornsilk yellow, or lighter, like the way light hits leaves on a ginko tree in the fall?  _

Dan can’t really verbalize why he’s thinking these things. He feels like he should be able to; he is the communicator, after all. But that’s usually with other people’s thoughts, with policy analysis, with specific situations. All of those things are solid, definite. What Dan doesn’t know how to do is articulate something that doesn’t quite exist yet. Or, rather, it exists, but it’s so far away that he can’t see it.    
  
He wants to talk to Tommy about it, wants to say  _ there’s this weird, unidentifiable thing in my head that’s very important to me.  _ But he’s pretty sure Tommy would play the Scully to his Mulder and say  _ dude, maybe you need to go to the hospital or something if there’s an alien in your head.  _

Dan can’t recognize the music Emily’s playing, though he can tell that it’s light and fluffy and nothing like what he’s used to. Taylor Swift, maybe? It’s a lot of talk about love and affection.    
  
Jon’s over at the barbecue, flipping burgers one by one, his hand moving as he regales one of his equally handsome friends with a story, presumably of one of the many interesting people they have met on tour. His t-shirt is a soft, worn blue; as Emily brushes by him she squeezes his shoulder, and Dan catches the movement of the fabric. He likes noticing little details like that; it makes him feel observant, and it gives him a better understanding of the world around him. 

Emily walks up to him and he immediately straightens up and puts on what he hopes is a friendly smile. He may not be a social butterfly at these events, but he thinks he’s a pretty good guest. It helps that Emily is so nice, and that he used to have a crush on her. (Used to, used to! Jon is a very lucky man, etc.)    
  
“So, Pfeiffer…” Emily looks back at him with her chin tilted up, as if he’s a pastry in a store window. “You ready to admit that Los Angeles is vastly superior to SF?”    
  
Dan chuckles. “I think my living here is enough of an admission.”    
  
“Absolutely not! I lived in New York for two years, I hated it. Still lived there for two entire years.”    
  
“Right.”   
  
“So, are you ready to admit that you’ve fallen in love with the city of angels?”    
  
Dan grins. “I dunno, I’d have to really think about it.” He’s had this discussion with Emily several times over the years, dating back to around when he moved to California. “I might have to make a list of pros and cons.”    
  
“I’ll start! Pro: your job is here. Pro: Your nice, unstuffy house is here. Pro: I’m here!”    
  
“Is that a pro or a con?” Dan quips with a grin. Emily opens her mouth in mock shock.    
  
“ _ Obviously  _ my presence is a present, Dan!”    
  
“Of course it is,” Dan soothes, letting his voice soften to calm her. She knows he’s joking; this is how they operate. “Besides, Jon is here, too. And you two are still really sweet together, by the way.”    
  
Emily’s cheeks are pink as she adds, “and Lovett’s here, and so is Brian, and Tommy.”    
  
“Right.” Dan glances over at Tommy, who’s far across on the other side of the pool, talking to Jon. “He’s here.”    
  
“Yeah.” Emily’s expression has changed when Dan turns back; she’s got a funny little smirk on her face. “See, Dan? The universe even showed you how important it was that you stay in Los Angeles.”    
  
Dan raises an eyebrow. “Because I needed to be around to make sure Tommy didn’t get killed?”    
  
“No! Because you and Tommy have gotten so close.” Emily tilts her head from side to side minutely, as though she’s balancing in her mind the words she wants to use. “Even from what Jon tells me, and what I see on, like, Twitter and stuff… you two have changed each other.”    
  
Dan furrows his brow in confusion. “How?”    
  
“Well… you’re both more introspective, and you care about each other more, and by proxy, you care about the people around you more. I mean, would the Dan of last year have volunteered his own story regarding bonding rights, even if he had it?”    
  
Dan has to think for a moment. He’s not sure he would have; he wouldn’t have felt confident enough to do it without Tommy, nor would he have considered it necessary. There’s something within him that’s changed within the last year, a part of him emerging that demands he bare his soul more often so other people know it exists.    
  
He hadn’t really thought about it, but perhaps over the course of what’s nearly a year now, he’s become a different person, in a good way. That always happens with age, but here it feels more tangible.    
  
“I hear you,” Dan replies, “and I agree. I’m not going anywhere. Los Angeles is my home; so are the people in it.”    
  
“That’s good. So you’re doing well?”    
  
“Fantastic, Em.”    
  
Emily smiles at him and turns, flipping her hair attractively and then flagging down yet another one of her friends. Dan takes a sip of his beer and wanders aimlessly around the yard for a few minutes. 

He should call his mom, one of these days. It’s an idle thought that skips across his mind like a flat stone on water. He doesn’t exactly know what he’d say to her; they’ve never been as close as he’s been with his dad. But he wants to tell her… tell her what?

_ Hey, Mom. You know that weird cloud that had been over me for so long? I think it’s going away.  _

No, because then she’d ask what he thinks got rid of the funk, if it was therapy or medication or something else, and Dan wouldn’t be able to tell her. Not without blushing, anyway.    
  
_ Hey, Mom. Uh, when did you know that you wanted to bond with Dad?  _

No, that’s not it either. She’d ask why he was asking and he wouldn’t know what to say, because he’s already bonded and it’s not like he’s scheduling a bonding ceremony any time soon.    
  
What does he want to say to her? That idea didn’t come out of nowhere.    
  
_ Hey, Mom, I… _

Dan tilts his head, leaning up and peering at the clear blue sky as he finishes the last of his drink. The rays of the sun beat down on him, but he doesn’t mind. He could soak in the sunshine all day, like a flower. 

He turns away, and blinks the light out of his eyes, and looks back up, and sees Tommy Vietor on the patio.    
  
And Tommy is… well.    
  
Tommy’s beauty used to be intimidating. It used to shock him every time they met, but gradually Dan was able to ignore the  _ yikes!  _ that ran through his mind in favor of more normal thoughts. He never actually paused and appreciated it, though.

He can do that, now, watching him talk with Ira, clad in his blue swim shorts and sunglasses. Tommy Vietor is  _ gorgeous.  _ Where does one start? Soft strawberry blond hair, confident posture, tanned skin dotted with freckles from his shoulders to his hips, muscles shifting in his back and his arms, definition on his abs, muscles around his hips that Dan has never bothered to learn the names of... 

Tommy laughs at something Ira says and Dan can see even from where he is that Tommy laughs with his whole body. It’s more subtle than when, say, Lovett laughs, but it’s noticeable.    
  
Then there are all the parts of Tommy that Dan can’t see at this moment, but that Dan knows only make him more beautiful. Like his eyes, cool clear blue, and the way he’ll lean back in his chair when you’ve got his attention during a conversation. Like the sound of his voice when he’s tired. Or the way he cares so, so much that he has no choice but to be passionate, because otherwise that kindness would kill him. 

The way he plays guitar. The way he smiles. 

Tommy looks over while Ira is talking to the group they’re in and sees Dan. With a quirk of his lips, he raises his beer, as if toasting to Dan. Dan feels a bright wide smile come across his face. He raises his cup up as well, returning the toast, stepping back to shift his weight…

_ Hey, Mom, I think I love Tommy Vietor. _

… and promptly falling backwards into the pool.   
  
In the last millisecond while he’s in the air, Dan vaguely recognizes a dull pain in his foot, and the sound of people yelling. Then he’s all wet and there are bubbles everywhere.    
  
It takes him a moment to find his bearings. He’s lucky he breathed in instead of out on the way down - and speaking of down, which way is up, again? There it is. God, when was the last time he swam? Back when he moved to Los Angeles? This feels awesome. He’s so much lighter. 

When he surfaces, everyone is bordering the pool, looking at him and calling his name.    
  
“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he says to Jon, who is knee deep in the water, pulling him out with one hand. “I hardly drowned, here.”    
  
“You fell in!” Lovett says. “It was a big fucking splash, Dan.”    
  
“You hurt yourself,” Emily says with a pout, pointing at his slightly scraped foot. “I’ll get you a towel and a first aid kit.” 

“Really, I’m fine,” Dan protests, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the pool, but Emily has already hurried off.    
  
“Are you sure?” Tommy asks. When did he sit right next to Dan? “You didn’t hit your head or anything?”    
  
Dan gets a good look at him; you’d think Dan might have had a near-death experience by how concerned Tommy looks.    
  
“Uh, no, I’m dense but I’m not  _ that  _ dense,” Dan jokes.    
  
“Less dense, more… full of hot air, I’d say,” Tommy jokes. The two of them grin at each other before Tommy nods at his foot and says, “how’s the, uh, battle wound?”    
  
Dan looks over his scrape; he skinned his heel, nothing more. “I think I’ll survive.”    
  
“Hey,” Jon says, sitting down on the grass next to him. “Got you a towel, a band-aid, and disinfectant. You sure you’re alright?” 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Dan laughs. “I fell in a pool. I  _ do  _ know how to swim.”    
  
“It looked very, um… flail-y from where we were watching. You should’ve seen Tommy,” Jon chuckles. “He looked like he was about to go full  _ Baywatch  _ to rescue you.”    
  
Tommy turns the appropriate shade of tomato red as Dan laughs. He feels relieved to be able to chuckle at someone else so soon after his own kind-of-embarrassing swoon.

“Listen, I was a lifeguard all throughout high school. I’m ready to save a life.”    
  
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go diving or sailing.” Dan pauses. “Or, well, if I ever go on a boat.”    


“I think I’ll leave you two to it,” Jon says, patting Dan on the shoulder and standing up. Dan flashes a polite smile to him before returning his gaze to Tommy.    
  
“You’ve never been on a boat?” Tommy asks.    
  
Dan has to stifle a giggle. “No, Tommy, I barely know the front end of a boat. Unless ferries count, which they shouldn’t.”  _ I have the biggest fucking crush on you.  _ It feels good just to think it.    
  
Imagine saying it!

“I’ll have to take you out on the water sometime. You’ll love it, I promise.” Tommy nudges Dan with his shoulder. Dan has to look away at the band-aid on his foot to stop himself from smiling like a loon.    
  
Oh, he has to say it. Not today, not tomorrow, no, but there’s too much of that wonderful feeling of warmth and sweetness and champagne bubbles inside him to not say it eventually.    
  
_ What if Tommy says no -  _

What if Tommy says  _ yes? _

The two of them sit there by the edge of the pool until the party dwindles to a close. When Tommy and Dan finally part ways, Dan’s clothes are completely dry.    
  
\---

Things have been going… well.    
  
Really well.    
  
Really, really fucking well. And this is  _ Dan  _ saying that. Pessimistic, sometimes-cynical Dan Pfeiffer. Dan Pfeiffer who, lately, can’t help but walk with a spring in his step.    
  
It’s  _ fun  _ to have feelings for someone. Dan and Tommy do all sorts of things together. They go to the dog park. They go to museums. Their one hour every Sunday has turned into two hours, into three, into a sleepover at one point. (God, Dan was  _ so  _ sore from sleeping on the couch like that, but it was so worth it.)    
  
Dan can’t be the only one catching feelings here, right? Is that what the kids say these days? Catching feelings? Like they’re butterflies in a net?   
  


No, Dan hasn’t turned into a big ball of sunshine. He’s still relentlessly sarcastic, and he still swears at his phone when his fantasy basketball team is doing poorly, and he still thinks that Mitch McConnell sleeps upside down like a bat at night. He still tries not to get his hopes up, ("worry about everything, panic about nothing") because he knows that’s when things go wrong. His baseline of happiness is just higher, now. He has a cushion to land on when things start tipping him over sideways (thankfully not into a swimming pool). 

It’s the second Sunday in May and he and Tommy are at the kitchen counter, debating the merits of certain HBO shows. Lucca is by Dan’s feet. There’s a bird chirping outside. Dan couldn’t be happier. 

He hasn’t told Tommy yet. He’s going to - eventually. But he wants to find the right moment. He doesn’t want to fuck it up - he wants to have everything ready and in order.    
  
(Yes, he’s nervous. Of course he’s nervous! It’s  _ Tommy.)  _

Dan is beginning his retort to Tommy’s assertion that despite the ending,  _ Game of Thrones _ was better than  _ Mad Men _ when his phone pings. They both peer over and see a notification marked  _ call with Alyssa.  _

“Shit, I forgot.” Wow, is it already 1pm? “I promised Alyssa I’d call and catch up.”    
  
“You two schedule calls to each other?” Tommy asks curiously.    
  
“Of course,” Dan replies.    
  
Tommy seems charmed by that. “Do you want me to step out?”    
  
“No, I think I’ll have to head home - I want to give you both my full attention, you know?” 

Tommy nods. “We’ll pick this up soon?”    
  
“Sometime this week.” Dan doesn’t want to wait until next Sunday. “I’ll get out of your hair, just let me shoot ‘Lyssa a text saying I’ll be a little late… I’d call her, but you know, she might -”    
  
“Hang up on you without saying goodbye?” 

“Exactly.” Dan finishes sending the text and pockets his phone. 

“Well, all the women in your life do that. I guess it’s just your cross to bear,” Tommy jokes.    
  
“Right. Well - wait.” Dan frowns. “How do you know that?”    
  
“Know what?”    
  
“What you just said, about the women in my life hanging up without saying goodbye.” Dan shifts his shoulders back. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before.”    
  
“Well,” Tommy returns smoothly, “you must’ve told me and don’t remember it.”    
  
Somewhere deep in the bond, there’s the sound of ice cracking. Slowly, a deep flood of dread fills Dan’s body, starting from his throat and spreading from there.    
  
Tommy’s lying. Dan knows this like he knows his own name. He knows damn well that he’s never told anyone that, not even Tommy, because it simply hasn’t come up. He also knows that the harsh sting of a rubber band breaking on his skin, the sound of a twig snapping in the woods, the acrid taste of fear in his mouth isn’t his own.    
  
Suddenly the last ten months fly through his mind in rapid, vivid color, like someone’s turned up the saturation on his memories. Tommy smirking at the idea that he was his friend, when Dan didn’t know if he himself fit the label. Tommy showing up in places immediately, instantly, right when Dan needed him most. Tommy knowing exactly what to say, as though he could sense what Dan was thinking.    
  
As though he knew what Dan was thinking.    
  
Throughout everything, Dan has put up his block on the bond. He has been obedient. They have gotten close, and they’ve stretched out their time together, but they have never changed the terms of the bond. Dan doesn’t have the block up for his own privacy. He has it up for Tommy’s comfort. 

Or so he thought.    
  
“Oh my God,” Dan says quietly, “you’ve been listening in on me through the bond.” 

_ The call is coming from inside the house! _   
  
Tommy is frozen, holding his breath. Dan’s entire realization has lasted less than a second. If there is a glimmer of hope to be found, if he is ever to be proven wrong, let it be here. 

Tommy’s expression crumples into one of intense guilt and shame. “Dan, I can explain.”    
  
Dan explodes. “You can  _ explain?!  _ Are you fucking serious?! You’ve been fucking spying on me, how can you explain, how can you - oh my God.” Dan takes a deep breath. “Oh my God.”

“I haven’t been spying on you, I swear -” and now it’s oh so fucking easy to block out Tommy’s side of the bond, because what were small wisps of emotion before is now a flood of fear and alarm and helplessness, and it’s for Dan’s own safety that his mind puts up brick and steel.    
  
“Am I wrong? Have you not been listening in on me? Tell me the truth, Tommy: have you been hearing my thoughts?”    
  
Tommy closes his eyes, so Dan can’t see true blue anymore. “Some of them.”    
  
Jesus fucking Christ.  _ Some of them.  _

Dan has to sit down. He shakily moves to the nearest chair, trying to steady his breathing. He feels like he might actually be sick.    
  
Not once in this entire endeavor did he consider that his privacy could be violated. That he wouldn’t be alone in his head.    
  
“Listen to me,” Tommy says seriously. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not - I’m not spying on you like some sort of pervert -”    
  
_ Jesus, what doesn’t Tommy know -  _

“- but it won’t make sense if you don’t listen to me - Dan!”    
  
Dan looks up at him and Tommy’s face is so bright with emotion that it’s hard to look at. 

“Look,” Tommy begins. His breathing is shaky; it’s clear he’s running on adrenaline. “I have heard things you’ve thought. But it’s not because I’ve been listening in on you. I would never,  _ ever  _ do that -” 

“Then how the  _ fuck _ would you know what I’ve thought -” 

“Because you’re fucking loud, Dan!” Tommy interrupts. “Jesus, Dan, you’re not very good at putting up a block, not even on your best days, and your thoughts are - are - I can’t  _ block out  _ something that’s always there! I can’t turn off music that’s playing in the house next door! I heard bits and pieces, little things, words, a phrase.”    
  
Who is Tommy trying to convince? Dan or himself?    
  
“Please, Dan, you have to believe me, if I had known what you were thinking, things would - would be a lot different. I wasn’t - I haven’t been - I’m not spying on you. If I had known everything that ran through your head, I wouldn’t have been able to hide it for this long. I just heard bits and pieces.” 

Dan feels like he’s crumbling. He feels like he’s one of those toy snakes you have to squish to get in the Pringles can. He’s trying to hear what Tommy’s saying, but his brain is telling him to stick to things he knows, things he can trust. 

He thinks of Lovett’s words.  _ A bond is a house that you share.  _

"My side of the bond - that's my  _ home _ , you broke right in -" 

"I didn't smash through the fucking window, Dan, your thoughts were too loud and too clear, I couldn't just block it out -"

"Fine! So you didn't break in. The door was open and you just walked through. Did you ever once think of telling me?" 

Tommy swallows thickly. He doesn't respond. 

"Did you think  _ at all _ ?" 

"I thought," Tommy grits out, each word as painful as skin scraping on concrete, "that it was a home we  _ shared _ ."

Dan has to pause to take in this warped logic. It seems that even Tommy is realizing the futility of his argument. He looks away, steps back so he’s not touching the countertop, so there’s no chance he could touch Dan.

Dan doesn’t know what he’d do if Tommy tried to touch him right now.   
  
“You…” Dan has to swallow because there’s a knot in his throat. “You just… heard me, sometimes. Like I’m a fucking radio.” 

Tommy winces. His face is red. “I - if you want to put it that way.”    
  
“That’s fucking  _ wrong,  _ Tommy, that’s still really fucked up -”    
  
“ _ Do you think I don’t know that?! _ ” Tommy snaps. Dan has never heard him yell before - how is that possible? “Don’t you think I knew, every fucking moment, that I should have told you? That I shouldn’t have heard - heard -” He blinks several times and squeezes his eyes shut for a second.    
  
“Then why? Why even bother? Why do you  _ care?  _ You didn’t even  _ want  _ the bond, you didn’t even want to hear a word from me - what the fuck changed? What made you want to put your ear to the wall?” Dan stands and moves around the counter, so he and Tommy are mere feet away once again. “What made you want to hear -  _ words and phrases?”  _

Tommy’s eyes are red when he looks back up at Dan. In this moment, he looks a full foot shorter than him, shrinking down into the floor. A new expression is on his face, one Dan has never seen before. Guilt? Shame?    
  
“No,” Tommy says, “No, I can’t tell you that.”    
  
Dan just stands there, stunned. Choking with anger, all his embarrassment and hurt, he is more shocked than anything else that Tommy would  _ still  _ be keeping secrets. What could he possibly have to lose? What pleasure could he possibly have gained from being inside Dan’s head? That having once heard it, to go on listening? Dan’s soul does nothing but give birth to new anxieties. 

Deep, red-hot anger bolts through him. Tommy is a lot of things, but in the years he’s known him Dan has always thought of him as  _ trustworthy.  _ Dependable. Dan could - and has - put his heart into Tommy’s hands on multiple occasions and has always come away intact. But it turns out he’s been lied to. Their whole set up was based on trust; trust that Dan would respect Tommy’s boundaries, trust that they’d learn how to navigate the bond together, trust that Tommy wouldn’t listen in while Dan let the bond down. But Tommy has done  _ this,  _ which… doesn’t seem like the trustworthy Tommy Dan knows at all.

If he can’t trust Tommy with the bond, then the bond shouldn’t exist. 

“Fine, then.” He swallows; his tongue is thick in his mouth. “Then maybe we should just sever the bond, like we originally planned, since, this really isn’t going to -”    
  
_ “No!”  _ Tommy jerks to attention, eyes flashing. “No, no, Dan, c’mon, I - I -”    
  
Despite everything, it is genuinely disturbing to see Tommy in so much pain, and clearly on the verge of panic. Dan immediately regrets his words.    
  
“Okay, okay - you’re right.” He holds up a hand and watches Tommy’s chest rise and fall until his breathing becomes slightly steadier. It would do neither of them any good for Tommy to have a panic attack. “I’m sorry I said that - but you have to tell me the truth, Tommy. You can’t hold anything from me anymore. Not now. Why - why on earth would you want to hear what I was thinking? Did you think my thoughts were a joke, an amusement -“ 

“No!” Tommy defends. “No, no, I just…” 

Tommy’s expression turns from one of shame to shyness. He peeks up at Dan through wispy blond eyelashes, and Dan can see the sea-swept ocean blue of his eyes. 

He feels his chest tighten, his fingers flex in anxiety. Tommy has never looked at him like this before. Annoyed, yes, smug, pleased, proud, concerned, fond, devoted, Dan has seen so many emotions cross Tommy’s face because he’s studied it so many times, looked right up to try to guess what Tommy’s thinking, and more often than not, Tommy’s been looking right back at him - 

Because he’s been doing the same. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Oh my god,” Dan breathes, “you’re in love with me.” 

Tommy groans in near-sympathy. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” 

In his wildest dreams Dan would never have imagined something like this. That the movie moment, the anguished declaration of love, would be received not with joy but with horror. Dan could never imagine that Tommy - someone he  _ loves,  _ has loved for years, in some form or another - would be telling him this, in this situation.    
  
Tommy is in love with him.    
  
Tommy is in love with him, and Tommy has been hearing his thoughts.    
  
Dan takes a step back from him. He can’t process this. The only thing that rises in his throat when he tries to speak is disgust. 

“Tommy…” He begins, but then he trails off. His thoughts are running so fast in his head that he can’t keep them all straight.    


Tommy has violated his privacy. Tommy has been  _ spying  _ on him. Tommy has wronged him. Tommy has probably heard more of his intimate thoughts than any other person, possibly including his therapist, depending on how much Tommy has listened to.    
  
And Tommy is in love with him. He's making it sound like -- like -- he couldn’t  _ help  _ it. 

_ “What?”  _ Dan asks, disbelieving.  _ “What?”  _

Dan can’t imagine anyone falling in love with him via that insider knowledge. Every inane thought, every nervous remark, every time he swore at someone in his head or enjoyed the taste of burnt popcorn or conjured a strange fantasy or went over the Sixers’ losing scores or used a q-tip or looked at himself in the mirror after getting out of the shower, wrinkling his nose at what he saw, every time he thought the wrong thing or needed to correct himself but couldn’t - no one would ever want to listen to that. No one  _ should  _ ever want to listen to that; even a fraction of it would be intolerable. It’s why he was never bonded before. It’s why he was reluctant to bond right up until saving Tommy’s life demanded it. 

But Tommy’s expression has turned from shame to earnest sincerity, his eyes wide, desperate. He must notice something in Dan’s eyes because he says, “You don’t understand. You can’t look at me like that, you don’t understand, if you had been in my shoes -” 

“If I had been in your shoes I’d  _ what?!”  _

“You’d have done the same!” Tommy’s voice breaks. “If you had - if you got to see someone in their private moments - when they're humming along to rap music or giving a friend a swimsuit or calming their little nieces during church - you'd fall in love with them, too. It wasn't - I couldn't just stop. It wasn't that  _ simple _ ."

Dan sways on his feet a little. Tommy had seen all that. Tommy had known all of that. Tommy  _ knows  _ him. Far more than anyone else. 

It’s terrifying. 

“When - when did this start? Was this from the beginning?” Dan asks. His voice is rough and croaky. He feels like the air is being sucked out of the room very slowly, and he needs to take limited breaths. His phone is buzzing in his pocket. He ignores it.    
  
Tommy looks up and gives the world’s most cheerless chuckle. “No. It was, um, back in August. I thought - I thought -  _ Jesus.”  _ He rubs his eye with his palm. “God, I have really just -”    
  
“You thought what? What did you think? What did you  _ just _ ?”    
  
“I thought you wanted me!” Tommy exclaims, his voice growing hoarse.    
  
Dan’s breakdown grinds to a halt for a moment out of sheer surprise. “Huh?”    
  
Tommy sighs and now the shame is back; Dan can see it in how he slouches, how he covers his middle with his arms and looks away. “I - I was blocking you out for a while, but - but sometimes you’re… difficult to block out, you’re big and your personality is - it’s a lot, and I couldn’t sleep, and… and then one Sunday you didn’t have the bond up at all, and you kept thinking my name, and thinking that I was beautiful.” 

Dan feels his mouth open in shock. Tommy just looks at his feet.    
  
“And… I was curious.”    
  
Curiouser and curiouser, indeed. Dan is Alice and he is deep in the fucking rabbit hole now. What else does Tommy know? Does Tommy know Dan's feelings now? Has Tommy heard everything Dan has thought about him?    
  
“So you just… started listening?” Dan asks.    
  
Tommy frowns, miserable. “I just… Dan, you are… your thoughts are…”    
  
He looks away, blinking again. Dan can tell he’s trying not to cry. He doesn’t know how he should react to that. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” That might be the part that fucks Dan up the most. That Tommy just kept this from him, for ages.    
  
Tommy takes a deep breath; it comes out shaky. “I - I was going to. But I was afraid if I told you, that… you’d take the bond away. That you'd sever us.” 

He makes the bond sound precious, almost comforting. Like a security blanket. The idea is so foreign to Dan that he honestly can’t process it through his own hurt.   
  
“You violated my trust,” he says slowly. “Do you understand that, Tommy?” It’s possible that he doesn’t.    
  
But Tommy’s face says he understands completely. When he meets Dan’s eye again, he’s upset but not uncertain.    
  
“Yeah.”    
  
“We  _ agreed,  _ that I would let the bond down for one hour a week, and that we wouldn’t listen in on each other, and that we would have our privacy -”

“I know.” 

“- we set a line and you just walked right over it! And not once did you even think to  _ tell me, _ to  _ ask,  _ to see if I was okay with it -”    
  
“I fucked up, okay!” Tommy exclaims.    
  
“You  _ think?!”  _ Dan responds, his voice rising to a volume that even startles himself. 

The two of them just stand there, in the same kitchen where less than thirty minutes ago they were laughing.    
  
Dan doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know if he’s free to think his own thoughts. How much will Tommy hear?    
  
“I have to go,” Dan says. He’s already shouted at Tommy enough, and neither of them are going to feel better by continuing. As it is, Tommy looks… so fucking small. As small as he did in that hospital bed.    
  
Tommy just nods. “Okay.” He stays there, frozen. In the corner, Lucca barks. 

Dan exits Tommy’s house in a daze. Vaguely, he notices the bright green of the hedges beside Tommy’s door, where he and Tommy released the frog, and where Jon had returned the key under the flowerpot. 

He drives on autopilot, the radio off. It’s a bright sunny day outside.    
  
He needs to call Alyssa. He doesn’t. He’ll do it later.    
  
Dan pulls up to a pharmacy and walks through the doors, feeling numb from head to toe.    


“Hi,” he says to the pharmacist. “Um, do you sell bond suppressants here? I can’t remember if they changed the laws.”    
  
They do. They’re damn expensive, and the price would normally be acid on Dan’s tongue, but here it barely registers. He pays for the pills and a bottle of coke and heads back to his car.   


In the parking lot, Dan swallows two pills and sits there with his eyes closed, trying to focus.    
  
He doesn’t feel different, not even after fifteen minutes. Then again, he doesn’t know when they kick in. He also doesn’t know what it feels like when they do. He’s never asked Susan, or anyone else for that matter. 

He takes out his phone. There’s four messages from Alyssa and a missed call.    
  
He texts her  _ something came up and i’ll have to call you later. Will fill u in. sorry xx.  _ She texts back three thumbs up emojis. She’s excited to hear from him. She wants to know if he’s confessed his feelings yet.    
  
Fuck.    
  
Finally, Dan opens up his contacts and calls home.    
  
“Hello?” His mom’s voice comes through loud and clear.    
  
“Uh, hey, Mom,” Dan replies. His voice is shaky.    
  
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” His mom replies. She can always tell. 

“Uh,” Dan says, “um, I’m fine, everyone’s safe, just - something happened between me and Tommy.”    
  
“Oh, no,” his mom says. “What happened?”    
  
There, in the parking lot of a CVS with his mom on speakerphone, Dan finally puts his head in his hands and cries. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> relax, folks. remember: angst with a _happy_ ending. stay tuned. Once again thanks to @fizzy_smile for betaing.


	11. On Time, and Favs

Three months is a long, long time.    


If you’d asked him before all of this happened, Dan would have said that three months was nothing at all. In his days in the White House, everything sped at a rapid pace, and you were always running against the clock. There were only four years (well, two in reality) to do everything; if three months passed between when Dan started a project and when he finished, there wasn’t any time to reminisce because the next project was always waiting. 

He doesn’t work at the White House anymore. At least at the White House, there were tons of offices and hallways and passages to hide in if you needed to get away. (Presumably the designer of the building knew that staffers would need to spend plenty of time avoiding reporters.) In the Crooked Media offices, there’s just one big room, with Jon Favreau, Jon Lovett… and Tommy Vietor.    
  
Dan didn’t date Tommy. He didn’t have an awkward one-night stand with him. No engagement was broken off; there was no divorce. But this feels like the aftermath of a messy office romance anyway.    
  
It’s just like the beginning. When Dan sees him, Dan can’t stop looking at him, searching for something on his face, searching for meaning. And yet when Tommy meets his eye, he has to look away.    
  
In the week after Dan found out about what Tommy did (no, it’s not What Tommy Did, no capitals this time, Dan isn’t going to monumentalize it), he retreated into his own spaces of comfort. He didn’t take time off; he worked from home for a couple of days, and then made sure he was only in the office when he absolutely had to be. He went to see Alyssa in New York; they sat next to each other on her couch and watched old episodes of  _ 90210  _ while her husband pitter-pattered around the apartment in his socks and Alyssa’s cats meowed on the floor.    
  
He stopped at his parents’ place before he left, just long enough to check in. Seeing his mom meant hearing her version of a pep talk, which was primarily composed of variations on  _ you are my son and you are strong and empathetic and no one should have hurt you like that  _ and  _ tell me Tommy’s phone number, I just want to talk.  _ He appreciated that, even if he didn’t need it. He certainly didn’t need the protectiveness; Alyssa had already offered to take out Tommy’s kneecaps the next time she saw him, Mafia-style. Dan had politely declined, though not before pointing out how amusing it would be to see Alyssa take Tommy in a physical fight. In  _ this  _ corner, we have the ultimate Bear Mama, and in  _ this _ corner, we have the ultimate Lax Bro...   
  
(Dan had no idea how everyone at the office has been handling what’s happened - if they chose sides or if they thought about office politics or even if they cared at all. He would care, but then again he’s a rapacious gossip. The news spread like wildfire as soon as it happened, of course, but after snapping at one of the interns three days after the incident itself, most of the staff had been avoiding him. The notable exception being Priyanka, who simply patted him on the shoulder and told him she was “thinking of him when the Sixers game was on last night.”) 

Returning to the real world after his little weekend away from home was harder even than the first week back. By then, it had really started to set in.    
  
His best friend had really hurt him. The man he loved had really hurt him. His bondmate had really fucking hurt him.    
  
There had been the mildly irritating process of returning to Dr. Mueller and seeing her subtle but effective  _ I told you so  _ expression when he admitted how important it was to regularly go to therapy and to not stop right when he began to feel better. Then there had been the excruciating process of telling her in detail what happened, processing the facts, and building a timeline.    
  
There were blind spots in Dan’s understanding. He had no idea what Tommy knew about him or how long exactly he had been listening or what exactly he wanted from the setup. It made him feel cold and hurt.    
  
He had shouted at his therapist at one point, then immediately apologized. Out of everything, that was probably the stupidest thing that has happened as a result of all of this.    
  
No, wait, throwing a glass at a wall in his kitchen was probably the stupidest. Turns out, real life isn’t like it is in the movies, and throwing something at a wall doesn’t release much pent-up anger, makes you feel like a buffoon, and leaves you with a corner of your house you should avoid while barefoot. 

No, for Dan, true release of anger or pent-up frustration came not with physical violence but with a newfound interest in Netflix documentaries on the Clinton era, frustration at his local Chinese restaurant for getting him chicken lo mein instead of shrimp, and a 50% uptick in shitty Twitter fights. (Who knew getting bonded would make him a traitor to both moderates  _ and  _ leftists? It’s almost impressive!)    
  
If Jon and Lovett had thoughts about what happened in the first few weeks, they didn’t let on. Dan had told Alyssa and didn’t put an embargo on the story; he assumes that Tommy had told Jon immediately what happened and it had gone from there.   
  
Embargo. Jesus, he’s not a fuckin’ news story, here. Where’s the man-on-the-street interview? Where’s the conservative pundit ranting about Dan’s failure as a traditional bondmate to have zero boundaries? Where’s the far-left socialist pundit claiming that Dan should never have bonded with Tommy in the first place? Dan’s head overflows with shitty jokes like this. Dans in disarray, et cetera.    
  
The general chaos of it faded after about a month. Dan and Tommy began to inhabit a space with the friendliness and warmth of the National Prayer Breakfast. Luckily Dan gets to spend most of his time with Jon, and Tommy spends his time with Ben or with Jon and Lovett anyway. While they didn’t necessarily avoid each other, they managed to keep their distance.    
  
It wasn’t easy, because around this time Dan began to realize something that’s still true nearly two months later: Dan still loves Tommy. So, so much.    
  
He’s mad at him. Furious. He feels betrayed and treated poorly and all sorts of negative words, and he still loves Tommy with all his heart. He still sees Tommy and sees softness and light. He still sees an incredibly smart guy who has been his friend through everything.

The second month was especially hard because at every turn Dan wanted to talk to Tommy about why he was so confused, but Tommy was the one who made him so confused.    
  
The first moment of clarity came on a car ride. Lovett had flown out early for a live show in Philadelphia, while Jon, Dan and Tommy were all coming in afterwards. 

Jon had them stop in a gas station a few miles away from the Mann Center, leaving Dan and Tommy alone with each other for the first time in about a week. (It is impossible to avoid a coworker for as long as you might like when you’ve gone through a messy . . .  _ something  _ with them, which is something Dan would’ve loved to have known before any of this happened.) 

“Turn on the radio,” Dan said idly. Tommy was in the driver’s seat; Dan probably had a red spot on his forehead from leaning against the window for so long.    
  
Tommy did so, but managed to put a fair amount of guilt into the motion. It didn’t go unnoticed, just like, Dan imagined, the passive-aggressiveness he put into every action he made towards Tommy in the last month.    
  
If Dan was looking to music as a respite from his thoughts, he was sorely disappointed, because due to the car’s wiring or its position between stations all that comes through is static and the occasional word or sentence.    
  
_ Zzzzzz… experts say that…. Due to rising sea levels by 2050… _

_ Zzzz… cookbooks online… parentsneed to try this…zzzzzz…. _

_ Zzzzzzzzz - if I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody, baby, if I can’t have you, aaah (aaah)....zzzzz... _

It was a bit annoying, but Dan didn't want to reach over and turn it off or stop Tommy from messing with it. What’s the point? Then they’d be in silence together.    
  
Silence.    
  
It’s not as if Dan could retreat into the -    
  
“Is that what it sounded like?” The question escaped from Dan’s mouth before he could do anything about it.    
  
Tommy blinked at him. “The bond?”

“Yeah. My side of it. Is that what it sounded like? To you?” Dan hoped he didn’t sound malicious. He really was just curious. Maybe Tommy’s answer could’ve  _ made  _ him mad, but it didn’t.    
  
Tommy just chuckled. A low, cheerless sound, devoid of humor.    
  
“No,” Tommy said, “no, I wished I would’ve gotten that much.”    
  
Once he said it, he tensed up, realizing his mistake.    
  
“I mean - I shouldn’t have wished for anything -”    
  
“I know.” Dan had already read the apology note Tommy had written him two days after he returned to work, several times. He had said he’d give it thought. (That predictably did little for Tommy’s anxiety, Dan suspects. At the time, he didn’t really care.)    
  
Two minutes passed. Jon emerged from the gas station convenience store and grabbed some cash from his backpack, then returned inside. Dan shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with what he was realizing.    
  
“Turn it off,” he said suddenly. Tommy frowned at him, but obeyed, and once again they were thrust into silence. This time it felt thicker, more awkward to exist in.    
  
Dan hadn’t considered that Tommy wouldn’t have heard everything in his head, even when he was listening in. He just assumed that Tommy had seen him wholly and completely. But he didn’t.    
  
It didn’t make it better, but it made Dan understand.    
  
Nearly three months into this weird purgatory, Dan understands far more than he did at the beginning.    
  
The second element that Dan can’t forget is just as confusing as the first. Sure, Tommy may not have listened in on as much of Dan’s thoughts as Dan once thought he did. But he still listened in, because  _ apparently,  _ he is - or was - in love with him.    
  
It still throws Dan for a loop just thinking about it. Maybe that has something to do with his self-esteem. 

The only truly bright spot in the last few months - other than getting a strong Democratic nominee who will hopefully wipe the floor with Trump in the election - was Lovett and Ronan’s wedding. It was small, it was sweet, and the two of them were made for each other.    
  
It had been several weeks after the wedding and Ronan had been in town for the first time following the honeymoon. Emily had invited them out to dinner, and Tommy and Dan had been included, too.    
  
In retrospect, perhaps the fact that two married couples were inviting Tommy and Dan to dinner may have clued Dan in on what happened next. Or prepared him for it somewhat.   
  
Ronan was telling the table about a new app that he had been introduced to by a colleague; one he personally had no use for, but was eager to see rise in popularity.    
  
“I mean, the way I see it, it’s kind of like having a safe space in the same way that people who are, say, HIV-positive or -- hmm, maybe not, because I don’t really want to characterize it as a disease…” Ronan bit his lip. “I just think that an app where people with nontraditional bonds can interact with each other and maybe find love can be really helpful -- because, like, people like you and me may not understand what they’re going through.”    
  
“Right,” Jon replied, nodding.    
  
“Do you know people who are on it?” Lovett asked.    
  
“Well, no, but admittedly, I don’t really know enough people who are in nontraditional bonds, which is a failing of mine,” Ronan admitted with a shrug.    
  
“You know me,” Tommy pointed out.    
  
“That’s true. But,” Ronan added with a warm smile, “you don’t need this app, you and Dan are already adorable.”    
  
The rest of the table froze. Jon looked over at Lovett with wide eyes. Dan had the misfortune of meeting Emily’s gaze, which could rival President Obama’s in terms of its  _ someone in this room just fucked up  _ factor.    
  
Tommy set his fork down on his plate. “Excuse me,” he said to Jon, pushing his chair out.    
  
“Dude, wait,” Jon said, at the same time Ronan said, “Oh, no.” 

“Relax,” Tommy said to Jon. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”    
  
Dan couldn’t help but think, as he watched Tommy go,  _ that was terribly convenient. _

“I just… said the exact wrong thing, didn’t I?” Ronan asked.    
  
“Uh, kind of,” Lovett said, “but in your defense, I don’t think it was entirely your fault.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” Dan said darkly. He hadn’t considered  _ this  _ at all: that maybe Tommy’s feelings were obvious, and Dan was just an idiot. “But don’t worry about it.”

A minute or two passed, everyone awkwardly sipping their drinks, leaving Dan to stew in his own thoughts. Sometimes when he was left to sit and think like this, it felt like a beat to a song without the accompanying melody, or a hook in a rap where the lyrics never came into play.    
  
“I’ll be back,” Dan said, getting up to go find Tommy.    
  
Tommy was outside, fussing with his phone and breathing in the night air.    
  
“Hey,” Dan said.    
  
Tommy looked at him and wryly raised an eyebrow. “Here to rub salt in the wound?” he asked.    
  
Dan frowned. “Is it still a wound?” He replied. He didn’t really know what he meant by that. (He’s still not sure what he meant by that.) 

Tommy just sighed. “For as long as I live, dude, probably.”    
  
They walked back inside together in silence. Meanwhile, Dan’s mind was running a thousand miles a minute.    
  
Dan learned that night that whatever happened between him and Tommy, it wasn’t over. Obviously, there were logistical points that prevented them from simply drifting apart -- they were still bonded, as the vivid scar on Tommy’s neck reminded Dan daily -- but Tommy’s admission meant something else. Maybe it was that Tommy was always going to be sorry for what he did. Or maybe it meant he would miss hearing Dan’s thoughts forever, as few and far between as they ended up being. Or maybe it meant that Tommy was still in love with him, despite how Dan has been hurt by him, and how he’s had to separate himself from Tommy. No matter what, it means that there’s still something there. Their story isn’t over.    
  
It gives Dan plenty to think about, three months into this. He does a lot more introspection, even more than before. He can, because, well…   
  
It’s quiet in his mind.    
  
Suppressants don’t work like Dan originally thought they would. After taking them for about two days, he discovered that they don’t simply return one’s headspace to how it was originally. Rather, the bond is sort of… emptied out. Drained of all of its substance. Those are depressing images, but in truth the actual process didn’t leave Dan traumatized. It simply felt like the house they had created together had no furniture in it anymore. (God, this metaphor is convoluted, but Dan can’t think of it any other way.) 

What made Dan anxious was the quiet. Not from the bond -- though he did miss the low hum that signalled Tommy was around, and the occasional word from when he couldn’t sleep, and huh, maybe Dan had heard some things from Tommy’s end, too -- but the constant texting and tweeting and phone calls and Sunday afternoons with Tommy.    
  
Tommy is his bondmate. It’s hard to give that up.    
  
Dan’s not sure he wants to. He likes the security of having a bond. He likes the intimacy of it.    
  
But is that just his own false sense of security talking? Dan hates change. He’s always had to push himself out of his comfort zone; he’s never naturally been inclined to go somewhere unfamiliar. Over the course of a year, the bond he built with Tommy became familiar.    
  
There are those who say that bonds themselves are unnatural; there’s a whole community online of people who have sworn off bonding entirely. When Dan did research to see if other people had gone through the same thing he had, he found those folks to be nearly as vocal and persuasive as the bond rights community. But ultimately it didn’t sit right with him. 

He would need to be bonded to whoever he spent his life with. He would need that closeness. Perhaps other people could find that intimacy without those accommodations. But not Dan. Dan needs more closeness. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of. (That’s what his therapist says, anyway. He’s trying to internalize it.)    
  
The frosty passive aggression between him and Tommy has thawed in the last three months; they walk around the office and make awkward small talk like any other two colleagues. It’s not the same; it never will be. But at least they’re able to talk to each other again. Right now, in the kitchen of the Crooked Media offices, they can even make themselves two cups of coffee without causing a scene. Truly incredible.   
  
There’s another shitty joke about Republicans and elephants in the room that could be made here, but Dan doesn’t have the comic timing to verbalize it.    
  
He leans over and takes his cup from Tommy when it’s passed to him, then leans past him to get the sugar.    
  
“Excuse me -” Dan says, but Tommy interrupts.    
  
“Don’t hate me,” he says. That stops Dan short.    
  
Dan can be mad at Tommy, can be furious at him, can be so angry he doesn’t want to see Tommy’s face. He’s learned he can do that, now. But he’s never hated him, and could never hate him. He never will. It simply isn’t possible. 

“I don’t,” Dan replies. “I… I don’t think I know how to.” 

He leaves Tommy in the kitchen, the coffee pot still steaming. 

\--- 

“Hey, uh - are you doing good, man?” 

Dan looks up from where he’s packing up his bag. The recording session had gone well, and Jon had said that he would wrap everything up, allowing Elijah and Priyanka to go home early. It just leaves Dan and Jon in the recording studio, leisurely packing things up and scrolling through twitter in their spare moments. Dan’s been “getting ready” to leave for the last seven minutes. 

“Uh, yeah, why?” Dan puts on a nice, placid smile.   
  
“Just - about the Tommy thing. I know it’s been ages, but… we never really talked about it, and even though you two have handled it well, I mean… I don’t even really know what I’m asking,” Jon finishes with a shrug.    
  
“No, no, I see what you’re saying, uh…” Shit, how does Dan even talk about this with someone who isn’t his therapist? “Did Tommy… clue you in on what happened?” 

“Yeah, he… he told me pretty much everything immediately after it all went down.” Jon winces, as if pained by a far away memory. He leans back in his chair away from Dan. “He was pretty broken up about it.” 

“I can imagine.” Dan will never forget what happened, not as long as he lives. It feels, right now, like what happened was a hurricane, or a river flooding. A momentous occasion in the same vein as his acceptance into Georgetown was, as the passage of the Affordable Care Act was, as his divorce was. He assumes that will fade with time. Even now, it doesn’t feel  _ painful;  _ it just feels significant. A marker on the road. “I’m sure Alyssa got sick and tired of hearing me whine about it.”    
  
“I mean, he didn’t whine, he mostly just felt really bad.” Jon says. “He knows what he did was wrong, Dan. Like, I’m not here to defend him more than I’d defend any of my other friends - okay, maybe I am,” Jon acknowledges with a self-deprecating smile, “but I saw him in the days and weeks afterwards. He felt bad about it then and he feels bad about it now.”    
  
That makes Dan feel crummy. Not in the sense that he’s being manipulated; he’s felt that before. (In politics, it is rare that you are not being manipulated, or manipulating.) It just makes him feel bad that Tommy feels bad. He doesn’t want Tommy to feel bad. It’s been three months; what more is Tommy supposed to do? 

He’s spent so much time with his therapist, and with Alyssa and his mom and so many other people in his life, talking about what he wanted to happen after this. How he wanted to achieve closure.    
  
Three months is a long, long time for both of them to feel bad. Still, Jon’s word can only mean so much, depending on the situation.    
  
“Did… did you know?” Dan asks. He hasn’t even thought about this up to this point, but if Jon knew, well. There’s a whole other problem there.    
  
Fortunately Jon just shakes his head. “I didn’t know what was happening -- I would have told him to cut it the fuck out. But… I knew there was something he didn’t want to tell me about, and I knew that he was falling for you, and I knew that you two were bonded. Maybe I should’ve made the leap, I dunno.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry Tommy did that to you. I was pretty pissed at him for a while. I would’ve been furious.” Jon scratches the back of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching a little. “I mean, it’s an invasion of privacy.”    
  
“Well…” Dan doesn’t know how he got on the defensive, but here he is. “I got bits and pieces of Tommy, too, sometimes. Not on purpose, and not what he got, but…” Smells and colors and warm, tingly feelings, buckets of ice water or the crackle of a campfire… Tommy’s mind was the most vivid thing Dan had ever experienced. “I can’t say that I didn’t have some access to his mind, too.” Dan frowns. “It’s not as bad as I made it out to be, initially.”    
  
“Then maybe you should let him know that,” Jon points out. “I honestly wouldn’t know how badly he acted either way.”    
  
That’s right - Dan completely forgot. “You and Emily - you’re not bonded.” He absentmindedly gestures to his own bondmark.    
  
Jon shakes his head amiably. “Nope.”    
  
“Is it a medical reason, or - ?”    


“No. Just isn’t something we wanted to do. She wanted her own space in her mind, and I wanted mine.” Jon seems remarkably at peace with his own explanation. Dan suspects there’s more there, but he doesn’t pry.    
  
It doesn’t stop him from being surprised, though. “I guess I never really thought to ask you.”    
  
“Well, most people who ask aren’t too happy to hear the answer,” Jon admits casually. “I seem to remember you were in a similar position, way back when.”    
  
This is true - Dan wasn’t bonded in his last marriage, and they weren’t shy about it, either. “I guess… now I can’t imagine being married without being bonded.” Jon nods; Dan feels his face heat up. “I mean -- I don’t want to sound like a Bible-thumper, here.”    
  
“No, no, I get it.” Jon sits up. “It all depends on what you need in a relationship. Emily and I don’t need that -- it’s clear that you do. It doesn’t make either of us better or worse. It just makes us different.”    
  
Dan feels a pang in his chest he’s pretty sure isn’t a side effect from the suppressants. “Thank you for telling me that.”    
  
“Any time, dude. And if you need me to knock some more sense into Tommy, let me know.”    
  
“Yeah, I just…” Dan runs a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to do about that. It’s like… I don’t know. It’s like -- I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose him as a friend, I don’t want to…” He can’t even keep going; the idea just sucks.    
  
“I’ve been there.”    
  
“What, you’ve fought with Tommy?”    
  
Jon looks at him like he’s crazy. “Of course I’ve fought with Tommy. He’s my best friend; we’ve argued before.”    
  
Well, now Dan feels really stupid. “Right. I guess I just assumed you guys had this perfect, you know, mind-meld best-friends relationship.” He can even remember the twinges of jealousy he felt, looking at them while they communicated with their eyebrows.    
  
“Relationships take work; even platonic ones. But we work things out and we talk, and it doesn’t happen all that often anyway. I love him; I know that he’s worth it.” Jon’s expression softens. “I know you love him.”    
  
Dan looks away, shy. “I don’t love him like you do,” he admits. “It’s more complicated.”    
  
“I get that. Are you still angry at him?”    
  
Dan shakes his head. “No, I… I want to be, but I can’t.”    
  
Jon smiles wryly. “You want to be angry at him?”    
  
“Not like I enjoy being angry -- despite what people on Twitter would have you think -- more that… wouldn’t you be angry at him for longer?”    
  
“Probably.”    
  
“Alyssa practically wanted to kill him.”    
  
“Of course she did; you’re her best friend.”    
  
“Then shouldn’t I be angry, too?” Dan tilts his head. “I mean… I want to be angrier at him, I feel like I’m supposed to, but… I can’t.”    
  
Jon thinks about this for a moment. Dan knows that he’s thinking because he does the thing where he bites the inside of his cheek.    
  
“Well, this might sound stupid, but… have you tried…  _ not  _ being angry at him?”    
  
Dan raises an eyebrow. “What?”    
  
“Or just… not wanting to be angry at him. Taking anger out of the equation entirely.” Jon shrugs. “Even forgiving him, if we’re going to go absolutely nuts here.”    
  
“Really?” Dan leans back. Even the word  _ forgiving  _ sounds refreshing and new, filled with life. His therapist has of course mentioned it plenty of times before, but Dan has only paid so much attention. “But - wouldn’t you be forgiving him a bit later than just after three months?”    
  
“Who cares what I’d do? Who cares what anyone else would do? He’s your friend, and he wronged you, not me. If you think he’s penitent enough, I say go for it. You get to decide when to forgive someone, no one else does. I know I’m biased, but I mean it.” 

Jon pauses; Dan’s seen him do this before. He’s searching for the right words, the best way to convey what he wants to say.    
  
“You decide what reconciliation means. That includes when it happens.”    
  
Dan feels a knot form in his throat. He clears it awkwardly and smiles. “Thank you. I’ll, um. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”    
  
“No problem.” 

Dan feels his skin tingle as he gathers up the rest of his things and heads out of the studio. It’s late; nearly everyone else has gone home. It’ll be time to take his second dose of suppressants, soon. He probably should also grab something for dinner.    
  
Standing outside in the cool Los Angeles air of the evening, Dan makes a phone call before he does anything else.    
  
“Hello?” Tommy answers. 

“Hey,” Dan says. “Um, I was thinking - do you want to get coffee or breakfast or something, sometime soon? We haven’t talked about what happened, and… I think it would be nice for us to clear the air.”    
  
Tommy breathes heavily into the receiver. For a second Dan worries he’s going to turn him down. Or maybe Dan has just made them both really anxious for no reason, and they should talk now, and doing this in person is a terrible idea.    
  
(Dan could never do this over the phone. He needs to see Tommy’s eyes, his face.)   
  
“Definitely,” Tommy says. “I - I think that sounds like a great idea.”    
  
“I’ll text you on the details?”    
  
“Sure.”    
  
Dan can’t help his smile. “I’ll see you, say, Sunday?”    
  
Tommy doesn’t miss the reference. Dan can hear it in his voice. “Sounds good to me.”

“Have a good night, Tommy.”    
  
“You too, Dan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment if you liked this chapter and/or are excited for the conclusion
> 
> fizzy is a warm mug of hot chocolate.


	12. On Reconciliation, and Bonding

Dan suspects it would be pretty corny to call this diner ‘the diner where it all began’, because that’s not technically true and also that’s a pretty shitty name for a diner. Still, that’s the name that pops up in his mind when he pulls into the parking lot of the diner where almost a year ago he and Tommy had agreed to start this…arrangement...bond management... thing. One hour, every Sunday. It had bloomed into something far bigger than that, sure, but was that really the beginning of all this?   
  
Maybe it was before then, in the hospital room, where Lovett explained the ‘house’ metaphor to him, the one that’s been in Dan’s mind almost constantly since it was put there. Nowadays Dan doesn’t think of the bond as a big New England mansion, with wide open doors and curtains blowing in the breeze; honestly it’s hard to think of it as anything other than empty, due to the suppressants. But as he sits down at a booth and idly looks over the menu, he tries to imagine a smaller house, one that’s newly built, a little cottage in a small town. No furniture in it; just a fresh start waiting to happen.   
  
Maybe the start of this was on the ground in the pizza place, with Tommy’s blood pooling and getting near Dan’s knees. Maybe it started with the taste of iron in Dan’s mouth and the sound of sirens ringing in his ears.   
  
Or maybe it was even before then, in some office building in Illinois, when Dan was already too wrapped up in his own anxiety and ego and the electricity of meeting the next president of the United States to pay attention to what was right in front of him. 

Speaking of what’s right in front of him…

“Hey.” Tommy sits down in the booth across from him. “Sorry I’m late.”   
  
Dan glances at his phone. “You’re right on time. Was traffic bad?” He might as well try small talk.   
  
“No, Lucca was just being fussy.” Tommy glances over the menu. Dan can see that he’s sweating a little despite the cool air of the diner; he’s nervous. 

“Order anything you want, my treat,” Dan offers.   
  
Tommy nods but doesn’t say anything, just shifting uncomfortably. He’d probably look relaxed to anybody else, but Dan can see the stiffness in his spine and the dark circles under his eyes. He notices these things now. He wonders if Tommy can see the same tells in his own body language. Is that okay? Is it okay that he let Tommy so far in?   
  
Is he really going to do that again? Isn’t that the most mortifying thing ever?   
  
The waiter comes over and takes their order. Dan orders a black coffee; Tommy, surprisingly, orders two eggs sunny side up with toast. He then proceeds to eat them with the meticulousness of a prisoner facing the electric chair.   
  
Poor Tommy. Everyone faces nerves in a different way, but Dan wishes he could make it better.   
  
He _ could _ just say his piece and get it over with, but… he also wants to hear what Tommy has to say. Does that make him selfish? Does it matter if it makes him selfish?   
  
Dan takes a sip of coffee and tries to calm down.   
  
Eventually Tommy’s plate is taken away and he’s left to look at Dan with wide eyes.   
  
“Do you want to talk first? I can go first,” Dan offers. He wants to make this part as painless as possible. If they can have any semblance of a friendship after this, it’ll be a win. Anything else is just a bonus.

“No, no, I’ll… um. I wrote some stuff. Different from - different from what I wrote you at first.” Tommy takes a folded piece of paper out of his pocket; Dan is momentarily charmed by the old-fashionedness of using a regular piece of paper.  
  
Tommy looks at it for a moment, then folds it back up and lays it on the table. “I, uh, I think I have it memorized already. Basically, um - I want to… I want to do several things at once.”   
  
“Okay.” Dan nods encouragingly.   
  
“The first thing I want to do is the most important, which is… apologize.” Tommy swallows. His face is open and clear and full of sincerity. 

“Dan, I am… so, so sorry, for listening in on you in the bond. It was a violation of your privacy, and I shouldn’t have done it. We agreed to keep things private, because I was… really, really against the fact that you bonded with me in the first place, which was a selfless act, and… and I acted really selfishly. I didn’t _ actively _listen in, I didn’t try to spy on you, but I did sometimes hear what you were thinking, even if it was only at the most superficial level.” 

Tommy pauses and takes a sip of water. “I, uh. I didn’t hear anything really personal or private. Most of the time it was just passing phrases, and… and feelings. I’m not saying that because, um, because I feel like it makes what I did better, I just. I want to reassure you.” Tommy scrunches his nose up slightly like he’s not okay with the way he worded that. “But. The point is that I really made a mistake. I did the wrong thing, and I hurt you in the process. I’m sorry for doing that.”   
  
He pauses, takes another sip of water. Dan just stares at him. He had no idea how much he needed to hear those words. _ I’m sorry. _ He knew Tommy was sorry before - basically knew it the instant Tommy admitted what he had done -- but hearing it now gives it more weight. It’s been three months; if Tommy ever wanted to back out on his apology, he had time to do it. 

“The second thing I want to do is, well -- it’s not really an apology if you don’t put anything behind it. I can’t go back and change what I did -- as much as I’d like to -- but, uh…” Tommy’s voice wavers a bit; it reminds Dan of past moments of vulnerability, but nothing he can pin down at this exact moment. How many times has he seen Tommy visibly upset? 

“I… I did what I did because I had -- _ have _ feelings for you. I understand if this makes you uncomfortable. I only point it out because -- I really care about you, and I’m willing to do whatever you need me to do for us to still have a friendship. If that means seeing a specialist so I can keep the block on the bond up, that’s fine. If it means paying for your suppressants for as long as you want me to, that’s fine too.”   
  
Suppressants are expensive. Dan doesn’t say that; he just thinks it.   
  
Tommy takes a deep breath. “Finally, if you, uh. If you want to sever the bond, then I’m… I’m happy to do that. I can do that. It would be - whatever you need, you know? I just… I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” Tommy looks away, glancing out the window. “I don’t want to lose you,” he repeats.   
  
Dan leans back in his seat, unable to speak. 

Tommy would give up the bond for him. Dan saw how much the bond meant to Tommy, saw how much it hurt him to even think of giving it up. This whole time, Tommy has been growing more and more attached to the bond, more and more used to having it in his life. He went from wanting it gone immediately to panicking when Dan had suggested it be severed.   
  
And he’d give it up if it meant their friendship could survive intact. It’s one thing to offer to pay for suppressants; it’s another to suggest they go under the knife.   
  
Dan can appreciate the gesture, even if it’s not necessary. He swallows the knot in his throat and nods.   
  
“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you.”   
  
Jesus, and now _ he _needs to talk?

“Um.” Dan clears his throat. “Okay.”   
  
Tommy nods, encouraging.   
  
“I, uh, I actually have two things to say about this,” Dan begins. “The first is, well - I want to clarify some things. While I do think that what you did was wrong, over time, I don’t think that - I don’t think that it was as reprehensible as I initially believed. When… when you told me, a few months back, how it felt to hear me… I got it, because sometimes I think I did the same.”   
  
Tommy’s nearly nonexistent eyebrows nearly reach the ceiling.   
  
“It wasn’t like - it wasn’t exactly like what you did. It wasn’t really… words, most of the time, so I don’t think it’s quite the same. Mostly it was just… sensations. Feelings. Colors and shapes and ideas. But… maybe that’s just how you think. Maybe if I had understood the context, I would have been feeling some pretty private stuff.”   
  
Tommy looks away. “I’m not quite sure it’s the same thing. You didn’t even know you were doing it, from what it sounds like,” he murmurs.   
  
“I’m not saying it’s the same thing. I’m saying what you did isn’t unforgivable. And you’ve clearly shown that you’re not letting yourself off the hook. But I’m not here to try your case. I’m here to - to…”   
  
God, Tommy’s beautiful. _ Focus! _

“The second thing,” Dan says, trying to get back on track, “is, that, um. When you’re thinking about whether or not to forgive someone, you need to consider what their value is to you. I know that might sound crude, but… it’s true. You don’t care if a stranger says something cruel to you online the way you care if a family member says the same thing. So… I thought a lot about what you meant to me, over these past few months.”   
  
Dan takes a deep breath. Tommy’s ocean blue eyes flicker down to watch his chest move.   
  
“The truth is that you mean everything to me. You’re my friend and my colleague and I trust you like I would a family member. You’re smart and funny and kind, and I can’t imagine a world where I don’t talk to you every day.” _ Okay, stay calm, deep breaths like you practiced with Alyssa… _ “As for the bond -- it’s completely changed my life. I have a whole new way of looking at the world, not to mention a new professional calling. Sure, it can be frustrating and a little weird and it’s sometimes horrifying to know that you know things about me no one else does, but… I was able to keep you safe by doing it. And even if I didn’t -- if I could go back and do things differently…”   
  
If he could go back, to before they agreed to let down the block one hour every Sunday, to before the hospital room, to when Tommy was lying on the ground and Dan needed to do whatever he could to save him --   
  
“I’d still make the same choice a thousand times over. So I forgive you, Tommy.”   
  
Tommy lets out a little noise that might be a sob. Dan takes another good look at him; he’s looking away again, out the window. He’s misty eyed.   
  
“Really?” Tommy asks.   
  
“Really.”   
  
The biggest, most beautiful smile breaks out over Tommy’s face. It’s like the sun. Dazzling and impossible to look away from.   
  
Dan has felt the relief of being forgiven before. But he’s never felt this - the pure, refreshing feeling of forgiving someone else.   
  
“Oh, wow.” Tommy chuckles, taking a deep breath and blowing out a stream of air. “I, uh - I don’t know what to say.”   
  
“Did you really think I’d invite you here just to tell you to fuck off?” Dan asks.   
  
“I don’t know! I didn’t expect -- like I said.” Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”   
  
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Dan replies dryly.   
  
Tommy coughs and blinks up at the ceiling. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. I - huh.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m like the prodigal son. Prodigal friend?”   
  
Dan has to think for a moment to get the reference. “I’m not quite sure that’s what prodigal means, but… something like that. Maybe, um…” Dan looks down at his hands. Takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re more like the prodigal .... um... lover?”   
  
Tommy freezes. Dan looks up and can practically see the gears turning in Tommy’s head.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Yeah, um.” Dan scratches the back of his neck. “See, that’s the third thing I wanted to talk about. You said that in the beginning you thought I had a thing for you, and, well, while I would argue that your assumption wasn’t well founded at the time, turns out, you could still make a living in the prediction business, so -”   
  
“ _ Dan.” _

“- I’m in love with you,” Dan continues easily, “and if by any small chance you’re still in love with me, too, then… I’d want to stay on suppressants for a little while, just to, y’know, regain full trust and get comfortable again and stuff, but… if you’re willing… we can date. I mean, we should date. I think we should, anyway.”   
  
Tommy’s staring at him with his mouth open.   
  
“Are you serious?”   
  
“Absolutely.” Dan knows his Tommy Vietor. That look is not one of disappointment or embarrassment.   
  
It’s delight.   
  
For a moment Dan wishes he could be off suppressants right this second, so he could know from the inside how Tommy feels. But this is good, too. This moment, right here, seeing a pink rosy blush crawl up Tommy’s cheeks and into his hair.   
  
Tommy rests his chin on his palm, looking away. A small, shy smile hides behind his fingertips.   
  
“Yes,” he says finally, “yes, Dan, I would _ love _ to date you.”   
  
Dan allows himself to grin. The two of them just sit there, smiling at each other like loons.   
  
Tommy holds out his big calloused hand. Dan takes it. He gives it a squeeze.   
  
“I love you,” Tommy says. Then his brilliant smile flickers. “Fuck, is it too soon to say that? We haven’t even gone on a real date yet.”   
  
Dan shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s too soon at all. Honestly, I think it’s been a long time coming.”   
  
\---  
  
Dan and Tommy have been practicing.   
  
No, they haven’t been practicing anything sexy or salacious. In fact, the last three weeks since Dan and Tommy officially started dating have been positively chaste for everyone involved. They’ve been taking things _ slow, _as in snail’s pace. They go out to dinner, they hold hands, they kiss each other on the cheek. The other night, Dan pecked Tommy on the lips for about a tenth of a second. But that’s it. Dan has still been maneuvering in a weird space where he’s been steadily going off of suppressants, and he’s wanted to prevent any mishaps in that time. 

That all changed last week. On Monday, Dan officially went off suppressants entirely, and now the bond is back in place (as it should be). 

Dan and Tommy have been practicing communicating through the bond. It is simultaneously easier and more difficult to do so than they both thought. Now that they aren’t trying to actively block each other out, it’s paradoxically easier to do so; knowing the entire layout of a building makes it easier to find a hiding place inside it. But it’s harder to transfer words and have conversations than either Tommy or Dan thought. Dan expected it to be almost like walkie-talkies; in reality it’s more like throwing something to someone and hoping that they catch it. It takes practice, which is what they’re doing.   
  
_ Change the channel. _ _   
_ _   
_ Dan rolls his eyes and pointedly turns up the radio in his car, turning down the street towards Tommy’s house. _ You can hear the radio? _ That’s unlikely.   
  
His phone rings; Dan answers it through the car’s speaker.   
  
“No, I couldn’t hear the radio, but I could tell that you were listening to music,” Tommy says immediately. Dan scoffs in response.   
  
“I could have been listening on my phone at home.”   
  
“But you’re not. You’re in the car,” Tommy says proudly. “You’re coming to see your boyfriend.”   
  
Tommy loves saying that word as much as Dan loves hearing it. “I am.”   
  
“Don’t be late,” Tommy singsongs. “Bye, Dan.”   
  
“Bye, Tommy,” Dan replies, pulling up to Tommy’s house.   
  
He takes a moment in the car to gather his thoughts, then grabs the bouquet of flowers lying in the passenger seat. He then reaches into the back for the small bag of groceries he bought earlier today.   
  
_ Okay. First real bonded date with Tommy. No big deal. Just like everything else. _ _   
_ _   
_ Tommy answers the door and then immediately raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you cleaned up nice.”   
  
Dan feels his face grow warm. He looks down at his shirt; a white button-down, one he usually reserves for when he’s on stage or on camera. “Well, I wanted to mark the occasion.” He steps in and puts the groceries on the counter. 

“Is it an occasion? We’ve been dating for weeks now, and if you include all the dates we went on _ before _ we were dating…”   
  
“This is the first time we’re both bonded, and not on suppressants, and not blocking each other out, and on a proper, real date. Not at work, not in the hospital, not recording a podcast. Just us.” Dan has spent a lot of time thinking about this. “These are for you, by the way.” He awkwardly holds out the bouquet of flowers. (He has no idea what kinds they are. They’re not roses… daisies? They’re pretty.)   
  
“Wow, thank you so much.” Tommy smiles down at them and takes a sniff before setting them down on the counter. “You really went all out; I feel kind of bad for not doing more.”   
  
“No, no, I just wanted you to feel special,” Dan replies.   
  
“Well, I certainly feel special,” Tommy assures him.   
  
An awkward silence settles over the room. Tommy looks away, leans down to pet Lucca for a moment. Dan understands his shyness; it feels like they’re starting a new era in their relationship, and neither of them know how to navigate it.   
  
Dan has been Tommy’s coworker, his friend, and (somewhat) his employee. He’s his bondmate; that part comes as easily as breathing to him. But what about being Tommy’s boyfriend? What is that like?   
  
“Do you, uh, do you want to sit down?” Tommy asks.   
  
Dan grins at him. “We can do that.” They both recognize the awkwardness, at least. It’s silly; they’ve been basically doing what they’re doing now for almost a year; the only difference is that now, the bond doesn’t get blocked after an hour.   
  
They sit down on the couch and Tommy turns to face him and their shoes tap a little. It feels intimate.   
  
Suddenly, all of Dan’s anxieties return. They do this at inopportune times. He squirms a little.   
  
“Was this too much?” He asks.   
  
Tommy frowns. “What do you mean?”   
  
“Like, was this too much? Deciding to come over on an official date when I’m properly off suppressants, the -- the flowers, and the button-down shirt, and I didn’t even know what flowers to get you, I don’t know the first thing about flowers, and like, we’ve been doing this casually but it felt momentous, and it’s one of those things that you kind of want to mark, I just don’t know if it seems weird, I don’t want to --”   
  
“Dan.”   
  
Tommy’s eyes could stop floodwaters in their tracks. His expression is calm and bright.   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Sometimes you can stop thinking so much.”   
  
And then Tommy’s leaning in and kissing him.   
  
It’s not perfect, at first. Their noses bump initially, but amazingly, through the bond, Tommy nudges him a bit to the left, and then it’s perfect. Ten out of ten, would kiss again. Tommy’s lips are warm and soft and Dan can feel his eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes. They pause for a millisecond; Dan feels the lift of an airplane leaving the bonds of earth. Tommy shifts and leans forward ever so slightly. The one movement leaves Dan awestruck, enveloped in strength and safety. He shivers; Tommy takes advantage and kisses him again. Then again. Then once more for good measure.   
  
It isn’t fireworks through the bond. It isn’t even champagne bubbles or ice water or any of the millions of feelings Dan will be lucky enough to feel through the bond in his lifetime. It’s pure, clear, joyously uncomplicated communication.   
  
_ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

Dan can never imagine kissing anyone else without a bond.   
  
He can’t imagine kissing anyone other than Tommy. 

They break away. Tommy licks his lips. There’s pink in the apples of his cheeks.   
  
“Wow,” he says.   
  
Dan raises his eyebrows. “Good?”   
  
“You’re a really good kisser,” Tommy breathes. He leans in; Dan’s hands, which he had held awkwardly around Tommy’s hips, move up his sides.   
  
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Dan cracks.   
  
“Oh?”   
  
“I might need more polling before I can accurately come to a -”   
  
Tommy cuts him off, pressing a kiss to his jawline, then his neck. “Is this okay?” His kisses are gentle, tentative.   
  
“More than okay. Here, let me -” Dan shifts, adjusts so they’re facing each other but closer than before. He brings Tommy back to his mouth. There’s too much of Tommy’s sweetness not to keep drinking from that well.   
  
Eventually Dan wanders. He moves over, kisses at Tommy’s jawline, even presses a kiss to the cheekbones he knows could probably cut glass. Then lower, to Tommy’s neck, to the vein that seems to jut out whenever something particularly rage-inducing happens in the world of foreign policy. The muscular cord that defines his strength and neck and _ Tommy _. 

Tommy leans back a little, hands against the couch, and Dan gently presses his teeth against the skin there, sucking just a bit. When he leans back a little, he can admire the bright red mark there, standing out against pale skin. On the livestream, everyone will be able to see it.  
  
It reminds him of the mark on the other side of Tommy’s neck. That’s enough to make him pause.   
  
He doesn’t move, keeps his head tucked near Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy has been letting out soft little noises that are truly musical, and running his big hands up and down Dan’s sides.   
  
“We should probably talk about this,” Dan whispers.   
  
“What’s there to talk about?” Tommy replies. Dan looks up at him. His gaze is earnest, eager. His pupils are blown wide; Dan can just barely see the line of ocean blue around them.   
  
“Well, it’s…” Dan sits up to kiss Tommy again. Kissing Tommy is _ soft, _ so soft. Dan’s feelings are safe in Tommy’s mouth. “We probably want to discuss how, um, how far we want to go, here.” He winces. “If you want to go further at all.”   
  
“I do.” Tommy puts a hand on Dan’s chest, feeling his heart beat. “I mean, if you want to. It’s one in the afternoon on a Sunday. We don’t have to -”   
  
“- do anything you don’t feel comfortable with,” Dan finishes, nodding. “That being said…”   
  
Dan leans in and kisses at a freckle on Tommy’s neck, under his ear. He thinks, _ how do I put this without sounding like a sex-crazed whore? _

Tommy snickers. “Oh my God.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Pfeiffer, no one has ever called you a ‘sex-crazed whore,’ and no one ever will. Do you want to have sex with me?”   
  
Dan peers up at him. Tommy is halfway in his lap at this point; one good movement leftwards and he’d be straddling him. “Well, how do you feel about sex on the first date?”   
  
“I’ve got no problem with it. You?”   
  
Dan can’t really say; it’s been years since he’s had the opportunity. “I wouldn’t really consider this a first date, but either way… I’d like us to fuck, yeah.”   
  
Tommy shivers and moves over, the sound of fabric rustling as they get situated with Tommy on top of him. Tommy leans in and nuzzles his cheek. Dan allows himself a small noise that sounds embarrassingly similar to purring.   
  
He then checks himself. “Okay, wait. I don’t mean -- I don’t feel comfortable doing anything -- umm-- penetrative right now -”   
  
Tommy giggles. “I’m hearing you say all sorts of new words today.”   
  
“Tommy!”   
  
“I assumed we weren’t doing anything like that right now. There’s prep involved. Not to mention we’d have to decide who’s on top.”   
  
Oh, and _ that’ll _be a discussion for the history books. Dan leans in and sucks on Tommy’s bottom lip as a reward for that image in his head; Tommy kisses back enthusiastically, filthy, promising. 

“But we can -- take all our clothes off, and, uh…” Dan’s starting to think he’s talking too much. “Go from there?”   
  
“Definitely.” Tommy nods, and pecks him on the cheek. Dan closes his eyes and feels Tommy’s fingertips reach up to brush his face. It’s like he’s tracing over a map, learning the path. “We can get to the bedroom eventually, but - can we just kiss some more, first?”   
  
“Definitely.” Dan smiles and wraps his arms further around Tommy, squeezing him tight. “I could kiss you all day.”   
  
Kissing Tommy is a delight, not just because it’s Tommy and Tommy is lovely. Dan suddenly understands why so much of culture is focused around bonding. It’s not vital, it’s not earth shattering in how it changes things, but… Dan has spent so long worrying if he’s doing things right. So long wishing he could experience what his partner was feeling just so he could share in it with them, not only so he could know if he was doing something wrong, but so he could know what to do right.   
  
Kissing while bonded means you can talk while doing it, and, well, Dan loves kissing and Dan loves to talk.   
  
_ You taste like chocolate. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It’s that weird coffee Jon bought me. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ As if you need more coffee. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Gotta be sharp for you, Pfeiffer. _ _   
_ _   
_ Tommy leans back and Dan chases him with his mouth. Tommy’s hands move down, glancing over the back pockets of Dan’s jeans, before pulling Dan’s shirt out of his pants. Dan takes the cue and runs his hands up Tommy’s shirt, delighting in the little shiver that accompanies his touch.   
  
Tommy is all warm skin and firm muscle. Dan can feel every movement in his body as he shifts. At some point, Dan will definitely want to map things out, note the full-body shudder Tommy gives when he presses against the small of Tommy’s back, the way his breath hitches when Dan’s hand lingers around his waistband, listen to Tommy's gasps and sighs and remember all of it. But then Tommy’s tongue is in his mouth, gently pressing against his, and he’s warm and wet and Dan finds it difficult to form sentences even through the bond.   
  
_ Gonna turn you into a puddle, Pfeiffer. Gonna get payback for all the shit you did to me this past year. _

Dan grins and tilts his chin up in a look of defiance. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”   
  
Tommy gives him a look of pure challenge, and dips his head down. There’s a sharp sting of pain at his neck. Dan hisses, arching up.   
  
_ Just marking my territory. _ _   
_ _   
_ Dan squeezes Tommy’s thighs through his jeans and says, “I’m still sorry that mark is so fucking gaudy.”   
  
Tommy shakes his head, leaning back. “No, no. I kind of like it now.” He grins. “I just want you to get the same shit I do.”   
  
Dan laughs and pulls him back in.   
  
He doesn’t know how long they spend there. There’s no music playing, no movie paused in the background. It’s just the two of them, kissing and touching and making each other feel good.   
  
After a while, though, it becomes clear that as much as they both want to move in a more horizontal direction, the couch simply won’t let them do that.   
  
“Do you want to go to the bedroom?” Tommy asks. He moves slightly in Dan’s lap; Dan can feel his cock pressed against his jeans. Dan probably looks the same; he imagines that getting up and walking will be pretty comical.   
  
“Sure.” Wildly, a thought comes to him from months ago. _ Any frogs take up residence? _

Tommy’s smile disappears in mock offense and he shoves him playfully before getting up and leading him to the bedroom.   
  
Dan likes Tommy’s house. He’s seen so much more of it since they started hanging out together. He’s glad it’s started to feel more like a home to him.   
  
“Sorry, Lucca,” Tommy remarks, closing the door in front of her when they’re both inside. Then he turns and steps forward and they’re kissing again.   
  
Taking off Tommy’s shirt is second nature; it’s not even overwhelming, like so much of Tommy is when you see him for the first time. Dan has seen Tommy shirtless more times than he can count.   
  
Except this time he gets to _ look. _Enjoy the shadows of his collarbone, the groove down the middle of his chest, his definition, the constellation of beautiful freckles, up close and personal and tasting of Tommy.

“Jeez, Dan.” Tommy grins at him and moves his hand down, towards his thigh, shyly asking if he can touch between Dan’s legs. “Elevator eyes, much?”   
  
Dan takes Tommy’s wrist and places it directly on his cock through his jeans. “You’re really hot, you know that?”   
  
“News to me,” Tommy replies. Honestly? Dan believes him. (It’s the one area where Tommy is a complete and utter idiot.)   
  
Dan moves to take off his own shirt and Tommy stops him, his hands on his top button. He presses a kiss to Dan’s jawline (Dan notes the half-inch difference in height between them). 

“Hey, uh…” Tommy cups his cheek, “do you mind if… I do that?”   
  
He sounds so hopeful that it forces an epiphany, albeit a small one. This entire time, Dan has been thinking about his feelings, about how he’s changed, where he’s grown, what he’s desired. He hasn’t really considered that when Tommy says he’s been in love with Dan for ages, he’s meant it. Tommy has had his own story, here, one Dan isn’t privy to, even with the bond. And in that story Tommy has had his own fantasies, his own desires.   
  
Apparently he wants to undress Dan himself.   
  
Well, Dan’s a giver, after all.   
  
“Sure.”   
  
Slowly, with the slightest tremble in his hands, Tommy undoes one button of Dan’s pristine white shirt, then another, and another. Down the line he goes, his breath on Dan’s collarbone, unwrapping Dan like a long-anticipated present.   
  
It’s as if all of the worries and anxieties that plagued him are dismissed with each button. Dan has no need to search anywhere else for meaning; he can find it in the people he loves. In the person he loves. His hands come up to Tommy’s hair, settling in the soft blond wisps. It makes him smile. He’s going to have to resist leaning over and running his hands through it during pod recording sessions.   
  
“Gonna ruin you,” Dan murmurs, because he needs to do something to lighten the mood or he’ll topple over with the weight of his own feelings.   
  
Tommy just smiles, undoing the last of Dan’s buttons and moving to his sleeves to undo the buttons there. “Oh, you already have, dude, don’t worry about that.”   
  
There’s warmth in the kiss that comes when Dan gets his shirt off. Tommy runs the tips of his fingers all over Dan's shoulders and chest, as if delighting in Dan's body.  
  
Belts are next. There’s not much ceremony there, except to say that Dan probably should have guessed his own feelings much more quickly than he did -- how many times did his hand linger around his own belt buckle when he was joking around with Tommy?   
  
Tommy takes off his own pants first, nudging his socks off with his toes. Then his boxers are down, and Tommy is bare before him. 

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Dan is batting _ way _ out of his league. Tommy is all muscles and abs and hipbones and his cock is… really, really fucking pretty. He’s cut, which… is that a surprise? Dan doesn’t know. It’s long, thin, surrounded by a patch of neatly trimmed blond fuzz. Of course he's neatly trimmed. Everything about Tommy is neat and tidy.   
  
Dan wants to do all sorts of unspeakable things to him. He can’t wait.   
  
Maybe another time Dan would’ve been nervous, or preoccupied with his own body image. But Tommy’s a mess of _ fuck, fuck me, please, look at you _ in the bond and Dan can’t ask for anything more than that.   
  
Still, he’s a little self conscious when he has to lean against the bed to get his shoes and socks off. He undoes his belt, pulls his pants and underwear down in one motion, and there they are. Bare to each other.   
  
It feels… a touch anticlimactic. But Dan probably should’ve expected that. Once you’ve seen the inside of someone’s head, their body doesn’t feel nearly as intimate. The only thing that feels more vulnerable is that Dan can once again see the thin scar, faded, on Tommy’s side.   
  
Maybe some other day they’ll address that, talk about it, and Dan will kiss the thin line until he doesn’t imagine Tommy at his worst when he focuses on it. But that’s for another time.   
  
They _ are _ sizing each other up, of course, the way any couple would upon seeing each other naked for the first time. Tommy, pressing in to kiss him hello, doesn’t hide the _ oh _ that runs through his mind as he gets a hand around Dan’s dick.   
  
Dan doesn’t know if it’s because of his size (he’s… not small) or the foreskin (he’s uncut) or that he has a penis (he does). 

“Fuck - _ fuck,” _ Tommy whispers, moving them up on the bed. “Touch my cock, dude - you gotta feel this. Wait, let me get lube.”   
  
Tommy leans over and reaches into his nightstand, grabbing a small bottle. Dan idly admires the freckles on his back. He can see himself kissing them, memorizing them, connecting the dots in his mind like train tracks across Delaware.   
  
Tommy looks over at him under his pale gold eyelashes once he turns back around. “Something on your mind, Pfeiffer?” His voice is low and gravelly; Dan’s body responds immediately, leaning into it, hoping for more.   
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “You know me too well.”   
  
Tommy just hums in response and moves to straddle his thigh.   
  
“Here, here.” He drizzles lube on Dan’s palm. “Feel.”   
  
Dan obediently wraps his hand around Tommy’s cock -   
  
_ Oh! _ _   
_ _   
_ Oh, wow. So _ that’s _ what it feels like.   
  
Sure, Dan could get sensations from Tommy. He could get bits and pieces. In the last few weeks, he learned that if he worked hard, he could sense if Tommy was cold or warm. This? This doesn’t take any work at all.   
  
This is pure unfiltered bliss, pooling in his pelvis and at the base of his cock. It’s… different, to say the least. It’s slower, warmer. It’s hard to put into words; the only way Dan could describe it is by thinking of a mirror. He can see himself do the action, and can feel the pleasure that Tommy’s experiencing, but it isn’t as if it’s happening to him. It’s happening somewhere in the bond, someplace where their souls touch.   
  
Jesus fucking _ Christ _ it feels good.   
  
Dan shifts, pushes Tommy back a little bit. With one hand on his thigh, he adjusts his grip so more of his palm is on Tommy’s dick. He can hear the wet slick sounds of skin on skin, helped by the lube to make everything glide.   
  
The two of them both groan at the contact, then meet each other’s eyes and grin.   
  
“You could get lost in this, huh?” Tommy whispers. “God, look at us. Wait -”   
  
Tommy grabs the lube and messily gets some on his hand. Leaning against the headboard with his right hand, he takes Dan’s cock in his left, leaning down to kiss him first. 

Maybe Dan makes a sound at how good it feels, both because of the bond and because it’s been a while. Maybe it’s a bit of a revelation to remember how much he loves men, and loves Tommy. Maybe he makes a noise because it’s all very overwhelming. But none of that matters, because Tommy actually _ whimpers, _ and that’s a beautiful sound.   
  
“Hey, hey.” Dan bats Tommy’s hand away from his cock. “Let me focus on you for a sec.”   
  
Tommy nods, taking in a deep, shuddery breath. He leans in for another kiss, wet, open mouthed, filthy. Sex with Tommy is full of sweat and spit and lube and Dan is one hundred percent here for it, especially the thin sheen across Tommy’s broad, lovely shoulders.   
  
“You - that feels really good,” Tommy gasps. “You - you give a good handjob.” He giggles. His hips are moving a little, fucking up into Dan’s hand. Dan makes sure his strokes are rich and deep and satisfying.   
  
Dan doesn’t want to say _ Alyssa and I went through a phase where we sent each other sex ed advice, _ so he just says, “I jerk off a lot.”   
  
That makes Tommy laugh even harder. He leans down to kiss Dan some more; they end up flipping so Dan is on top, kneeling in front of Tommy, and Tommy is on the bed with his feet flat on the bedspread.   
  
Dan resumes jerking Tommy off, this time putting one hand on his cock and the other at his balls, squeezing slightly. Tommy’s eyes are closed, his breath coming out in short bursts. If his hips were moving before, then now he’s practically thrusting up into Dan’s hand. Dan makes a point not to let him have _ too _ much control, though. He wants to be a little dominant. Performing an act of service, sure, but still dominant.   
  
Tommy grins at him, his eyes still closed. His hair is messy from when Dan ran his fingers through it; Dan decides he likes it better this way. Tommy’s hair is soft and silky and Dan was completely justified in fantasizing about stroking it. 

“You’re a control freak, Pfeiffer. You’re a kinky fucker.”   
  
“Just wait till I tie you up,” Dan jokes, and Tommy gasps and jerks up into his hand.   
  
_ Okay, good to know. _ Dan didn’t really mean it like that, but he files it away for later. _   
_ _   
_ Tommy is massive in front of him, enormous and unabashed. His legs are spread, his arms out to the sides; Dan can see the rosy pink of his blush has spread all the way to his chest. He’s overwhelmed, and Dan made him that way.   
  
The bond makes it hard to think, but Dan is good at multitasking. He can focus on making Tommy feel good while also appreciating the steady pressure inside of him, the slow build of sensation like a wave before it crashes onto a beach, the rhythm of _ more more more fuck I’m so close - ! _ _   
_ _   
_ Dan removes his hand from Tommy’s cock and cuddles closer to him, rubbing over his thighs.   
  
Tommy glares at him, the muscle in his neck twitching slightly; Dan just smiles. Who knew it was this easy to get a reaction out of him?

“I was going to come.”   
  
“I know. I’m going to make it better when you do.”   
  
Tommy rolls his eyes. “Cocky son of a -”   
  
Dan cuts him off with a kiss. Hey, it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before.   
  
Tommy makes good on his promise of payback. With every movement, every time Dan moves his hands over Tommy’s chest or shoulders or thighs, Tommy throws it back at him through the bond, along with mirroring it in his own caresses. The result is uniquely able to make Dan unfocused and hazy, in the best way possible.   
  
Dan could get used to this.   
  
Somehow they end up with Tommy flat on his back, their hands on each other’s cocks. Dan tried to keep his strokes light and teasing for a period, but then Tommy moaned precisely once and any sort of strategy went right out the window. They used a healthy amount of lube; there’s a slippery mess between both of their legs.   
  
For a brief moment Dan’s objectivity cuts through the fog of his lust. “This okay?” he asks.   
  
“Fucking awesome,” Tommy replies. “Just - uh…”   
  
He’s distracted because Dan’s rocking into his fist, and it’s making the bed shake a little bit. (Sometimes Dan forgets that he’s big, too.)   
  
”What do you need?” Dan asks. He keeps his grip tight, sliding it up and down Tommy’s cock in slick strokes. He hopes he’s doing this right; he can’t take his eyes away from Tommy’s for a second to check. Tommy looks almost high, he’s buzzing with so much energy. Dan can see his muscles twitch, can feel his heartbeat through his dick. 

”Uh,” Tommy replies, his low voice shaky, “just - talk to me?” 

Dan has to think for a moment before he decides what to say. “Um.” He moves in for a kiss, brief, wet. “I think - I think, maybe, I’m a better person because I fell in love with you,” he murmurs.

A grin spreads across Tommy’s face, tinged with disbelief. He rasps out a laugh, breathless, his hips shuddering under Dan’s palm. “Jesus Christ, dude, I meant, like, talk dirty.” 

”Oh.” Dan pauses his movements; he didn’t mean to do it wrong. “I guess I can -“

”No, no.” Tommy shakes his head and sits up a little more, moving closer so their foreheads are almost touching. “It’s -- it’s good, it’s really good, holy shit.” Tommy bites his lip and lets his eyes drop back to Dan’s lips. “Kiss me.”

Dan kisses him on the lips, on the jaw, up by his temple, at his cheekbones. He keeps his hand steady on Tommy’s cock as he moves over him, keeping himself up on one knee and his elbow. He glances down, intending to get another good mental image of Tommy’s precome soaking his hand, but he gets caught on the bondmark.   
  
“God, I love you,” Dan says. “I am so glad we figured this shit out.”   
  
Tommy nods and begins to laugh but Dan twists his wrist gently and he gets cut off. “You have no idea, dude, being with you is -- I mean -”   
  
He closes his eyes, his mouth parting slightly. Dan doesn’t mind -- he can hear him through the bond, thoughts and feelings that are for the two of them alone.   
  
“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna -”   
  
“Come for me,” Dan says encouragingly. “Go on, I got you -”   
  
At the last moment Tommy reaches up and grabs Dan’s other hand, holding it against his lips. He comes with a groan, all the tension in his body releasing itself at once. Dan knows, because _ he _can feel it, too, moments of pressure and release rebounding over and over through the bond. It’s not quite like feeling an orgasm itself - Dan recognizes that feeling more as a sharp bolt of pleasure. This is more like - like waves. 

Dan glances down and sees Tommy’s cock spurt hot streaks of come over Dan’s hand and his stomach and thighs. Tommy is shaking like a leaf. Maybe it really has been a while for him.   
  
“I got you,” Dan repeats, because it seems like the right thing to say. It’s also really difficult right now to think.   
  
Tommy slowly regains his breath. He accepts Dan’s lazy kisses and gestures to the nightstand. “Tissues? You’re all…”   
  
“In a moment,” Dan murmurs. There’s a strange elation that comes from feeling someone else’s orgasm without you yourself having come yet. 

He shifts, moves so he’s laying on top of Tommy, straddling his thigh. Tommy wriggles a little bit, moves to kiss his neck -   
  
Oh, fuck, _ yeah, _ that feels good.   
  
For a moment Dan has to consider his own embarrassment. This is not getting a blowjob or a handjob. He is, technically, _ rutting _ . And that’s the nicest way to put it.   
  
But where he is right here with his cock pressed against the muscle in Tommy’s thigh, wet and slick and messy from lube and Tommy’s come, feels _ fantastic. _

“This is a little, um… embarrassing, but…” Dan feels his face warm up. How is it possible to be embarrassed while literally lying naked on top of someone?  
  
“It’s okay, babe,” Tommy reassures him. “What’s up?”   
  
“Can I… can I just sort of kiss you and rock against you like this until I come?” It’s like something out of a bad porno. But even staying here, still, with Tommy’s body hard and impressive against his, it’s electric. There’s something strangely erotic about being on top of Tommy like this; the two of them are heavy and panting and _ real. _ This isn’t a dream or a fantasy or an idea that Dan pushed into the back of his mind. It’s real.   
  
“Dude, absolutely. Whatever feels good.” Tommy hugs him close.   
  
Dan grins and kisses him, shifting his hips so he’s not crushing him.   
  
It takes him a moment to find a rhythm again. At first, he’s lazy, indulging in the slick mess between them, occasionally looking down between kisses to see the head of his cock peek out from between them. But then Tommy starts talking through the bond, and after that he kind of loses control.   
  
_ That all you got, Pfeiffer? I know you’re strong - why don’t you show me how you’re gonna fuck me when you get the chance? Because you will, I know you will - _

“Already ruined me,” Tommy murmurs, “already marked me and made me yours, I’ve got the big bondmark to prove it, you might as well rut against me - cover me - cover me with your come -”   
  
Distantly, Dan recognizes the sound of the headboard against the wall and the bed squeaking. But all he feels is Tommy, Tommy, all around him and against him and in his head. He comes, groaning, fucking up into the small space between them. Tommy manages to get his hand down there to rub his fingertips over the head of Dan’s cock and it makes them both gasp for air. It feels like it goes on for nearly a minute, Dan’s body shaking with the release of nearly a year’s worth of pressure. Tommy just coos in his ear and rubs his back with his other hand.   
  
Dan has the good sense to roll off of Tommy so he isn’t crushing him. The two of them stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch their breath.   
  
“Wow,” Tommy says. He says that a lot, apparently. It's nice.   
  
“Uh-huh.”   
  
“That was really good.”   
  
“No shit.” Dan grabs the tissues from the nightstand. “I’d say we work well together.”   
  
That earns him a bark of laughter from Tommy as he cleans himself up. “What, do you want to high five?”   
  
Dan makes an effort to keep a straight face as he holds up his hand. Tommy sticks his tongue out at him in response.   
  
The events after that happen in a haze. Tommy gets up and beckons Dan into the shower, and Dan follows. Tommy hands Dan a spare set of sweatpants afterwards, and Dan is briefly reminded of how nice it is to share clothes with a boyfriend.   
  
Dan asks for a shirt to go with his pants; Tommy just pouts at him in response. Dan rolls his eyes but obediently heads barechested to the living room while Tommy puts the bedspread in the washing machine. 

This is a routine that Dan can sense they’ll go through many times. Dan is one hundred percent okay with that.  
  
“Alyssa texted,” Dan says when Tommy returns to the living room. 

“What’d she say?”   
  
Dan holds up the phone, where the message from Alyssa reads _ HAVE YOU TWO BANGED YET OR WHAT _

“Just tell her the date’s going well,” Tommy says with a grin.   
  
Dan texts her an eggplant emoji with sweat droplets next to it. (She asked!) 

“So,” Tommy says, curling up next to Dan and taking out his own phone for some premium Twitter scrolling, “I’ve been thinking - do you want to get together next Sunday, too?”   
  
Dan rolls his eyes and looks down at him. Tommy’s hair is wet and spiky from the shower; a darker gold now. He smells like soap and he feels warm and he radiates calmness and peace, both in the bond and out.   
  
“I think we can get together on days other than Sunday, y’know,” Dan replies. Tommy smiles up at him.   
  
_ I love you. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I love you. _ _   
_ _   
_ “No way!” Tommy exclaims with mock surprise. “It’s almost as if we’re dating, Dan!”   
  
Dan can’t help his grin. “We’re practically bonded.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, we've made it. Took us long enough, didn't it? 
> 
> I'll save all my proper thanks for the epilogue, but for now let it be known that @fizzy is a cold glass of lemonade. 
> 
> P.S. Another definition of prodigal is "having or giving something on a lavish scale". Do with that what you will.


	13. On the Sea

It’s Sunday afternoon, and Dan Pfeiffer is on a boat.    
  
It’s not a big boat, but then again, what constitutes a “big” or “small” boat? It has sails, and a little ladder to enter the ocean. It’s big enough to carry the current hosts of Pod Save America, and their respective partners. The sky is blue, the ocean is calm, and everyone is in the mood to celebrate.    
  
It’s been two years since Tommy got shot, and lived. It’s been almost a year since he and Dan started dating.    
  
Dan has never been happier. It turns out, bonding is the best thing that could’ve happened. They’ve made themselves at home in each other’s minds. 

Tommy is also an incredible boyfriend - that helps a lot, too.    
  
“Tell Tommy to stop playing Kate Winslet and come eat his burger before it gets cold,” Lovett says. He and Ronan are at one end, distributing Shake Shack orders. (Well, Lovett is -- Ronan is lying on his back with his eyes closed, waiting for the dramamine to kick in.) 

Tommy had wanted to get pizza because he thought it would be funny, but they ultimately decided burgers would be easier to carry and a little less morbid. 

Careful to keep his balance, Dan strolls over to where Tommy is, noting that to the left of him Jon and Emily are in some sort of race to swim back to the boat the fastest. 

Tommy is on the other end of the boat, the… stern? Bow? Whatever. He’s simply looking out, off into the distance, where the blue of the water touches the blue of the sky.    
  
_ I’ll be over in a minute,  _ he sends before Dan even announces himself.  _ Just want to think for a moment.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Take as much time as you need,  _ Dan replies silently. He just leans against the railing and watches Tommy for a moment, letting him keep his thoughts to himself.    
  
So much has changed since the shooting, since they bonded. Sure, Dan has plenty to look back on -- he has a bondmate, a budding career in activism, he’s come out to himself and his family and friends -- but Tommy has all of those moments and more ahead of him to consider. There’s still plenty of work to be done -- Crooked Media is still fighting the good fight, and people with nontraditional or severed bonds are still being discriminated against every day -- but it’s worth reflecting on how much better Tommy’s doing now than he was two years ago.    
  
Two years ago, Tommy was in a hospital bed, looking small and gaunt and pale and scared and feeling violated. Now, he’s… well, Dan can only speak to how he sees Tommy. But he looks worlds better. Older, wiser, stronger. The scar on his side doesn’t bother him as much anymore, and he wears his big ostentatious bondmark with pride.    


_ I am so proud of how far you’ve come,  _ Dan thinks at Tommy.  _ I love you.  _   
  
Tommy’s facing away from him, so Dan can’t see all of his expression, but he notices Tommy’s hand come up to wipe away a flicker of moisture from his cheek. Then he turns and walks the short distance to Dan.    
  
_ I couldn’t have done it without you.  _

Dan cups his cheek and kisses him, feeling the sea breeze whip past his ears. Tommy loops his arms around Dan’s neck; they stay there for a moment, holding each other.    
  
“The boat thing was a really good idea,” Tommy murmurs.    
  
“It’s mostly an excuse to imagine you in a sailor’s uniform. ' _ Hey, sailor _ .'”    
  
“Do you want to go swimming later?”    
  
“Depends on how cold the water is.”    
  
“I’ll warm you up.”    
  
Dan rolls his eyes. “Do you give that line to all your dates?”    
  
“Only the good ones.” Tommy gently scratches the nape of Dan’s neck, his gaze full of affection.    
  
“Hey lovebirds!” Jon calls from the other side. “Soup’s on!”    
  
The two of them make their way back to the group, where Emily is trying to set up an iPhone speaker. Ronan is now sitting up, still looking pale (or paler, anyway) but better than he was a few minutes ago.    
  
“A toast!” Jon offers, raising his beer. He’s still dripping from the water, his hair flattened and nearly pitch black. “To Tommy!”    
  
“To Tommy!” Everyone choruses. Tommy blushes pink and looks away.    
  
“To surviving,” he adds.    
  
“Not an easy thing to do,” Ronan points out, “in this day and age.”    
  
“But very worth it,” Dan says, kissing Tommy on the cheek.    
  
Tommy hated him two years ago. Now, they’re planning the rest of their lives together. Funny how that happened.    
  
“Em,” Jon says, “stop messing with the speaker, it’s okay.”    
  
“No, give it a moment, I can -- can I use someone else’s phone? Maybe it’ll work with an older version.”    
  
“Here, take mine.” Dan reaches in his pocket to grab his phone and hands it to Emily, who plugs it into the speaker. She presses play, and the cheerful voice of Jeff Lynne comes through loud and clear.    
  
_ Sun is shinin' in the sky / There ain't a cloud in sight / It's stopped rainin', everybody's in the play / And don't you know / It's a beautiful new day, hey hey… _

“Who’s this by, again?” Jon asks. He sits down next to Emily and she wraps her towel around his shoulders. “I mean, I know it’s Mr. Blue Sky, but…”    
  
“Electric Light Orchestra,” both Tommy and Dan say at the same time. They look at each other and giggle.    
  
“Bondmates,” Jon says to Emily, rolling his eyes dramatically.    
  
“We’re the worst, aren’t we?” Lovett jokes, gazing fondly down at Ronan, who has rearranged himself so his head is in Lovett’s lap.    
  
“I thought you didn’t like this song,” Tommy says. In the back of his mind, Dan gets a flash of a memory, the image of stars twinkling in the sky.

He shrugs and smiles. “It grew on me after a while. You start to realize how good it is after a few listens.”    
  
Tommy grins at him, love and amusement and affection all wrapped up in ocean blue eyes. “I know the feeling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, we've made it. Can you believe? 
> 
> This is the part where I get to thank everyone who helped with this. I'd like to thank @wokeupscully, @steadfast, @timesinbetween, @selfrescuingprincess, and @kenopsia. 
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank my editor, friend, and overall superstar @fizzy_smile. Fizzy has been absolutely integral to every chapter of this fic, and I could not have done it without her. She has been encouraging, inspiring, and has put up with all of my shit. She's whip smart and has made sure that not only does this fic have correct grammar, but it also sounds smart and clever and funny in all the ways we know Dan and Tommy to be. Seriously, she's been the fact-checker to my Ronan, so, if you really loved this fic, be sure to let her know how wonderfully she helped make it in the comments. She has genuinely changed the way I write for the better, and has made *me* a better writer. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank you, dear reader!

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @fizzy for beta-ing this for me. More to come soon.


End file.
